


When They Came And Took You In The Night

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark doesn't know exactly what to do when Fernando gets taken from him, but his job might be his saving grace and the reason for this nightmare in the first place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day It All Began

Mark yawned widely, rubbing at his eyes in a tired fashion as he looked out of the window. The bright sunshine danced off the beige rocks that litter Fernando and his back garden as Mark looked out at the gorgeous morning Spanish landscape, the sun peaking over the distant mountains. It really was something else. Mark couldn’t wait to take Fernando to their Australian house in a few months time. He wanted to show the Spaniard the paradise he had grown up with. But for now they had to wait: the house was a surprise for Fernando and Mark’s friends hadn’t managed to get it finished yet.

Mark reached out for the Spaniard but there was no one beside him. He sighed, all hopes of a morning ‘quickie’ doing just that out the window. He bunched his hand into the sheets beside him but there was no warmth. Fernando must have got up ages ago. He was probably out running, training in some way shape or form. Mark smiled softly, letting the image of his boyfriend’s body fill his mind. The way each muscle worked as he jogged in front of him, or even the slight sway of his arse whenever they went for a bike ride. Mark was sure Fernando did it on purpose. He bit his lip as he took hold of himself in his loose underwear. With no Fernando here, his memory would have to suffice as he got himself off to a messy climax.

Hopping in the shower he hoped to find the Spaniard downstairs making breakfast or something. Then he could tease him about what he had missed and playfully slap his arse, maybe getting some bonus kitchen sex as an apology. That would be nice. He smiled, the mental images already making him hard again, as he pulled a shirt over his head, grabbing his phone and dropping it in his pocket. The taunts were already on his lips as he took the stairs two at a time.

But as he moved into the kitchen the smile disappeared.

It was chaos, the whole place looked like it had been destroyed. Chairs were broken; things litter the floor having being knocked off the side. Glass littered the floor and Mark left the room to grab some shoes, all the while trying to keep his breathing in check. That’s when he saw the front door, slightly ajar, the lock busted cleanly. Mark was already shaking his head as he threw it open, dashing into the front garden. There was no sign of anything. The gate was closed, his car sat ominously on the drive. But Mark’s breath caught in his throat. He was nearly sick. There, lying innocently on a nearby rock, drying in the hot Spanish sun: blood. And not a little bit of blood. Evidently a struggle had occurred.

Mark thought instantly of Fernando.

“Fernando?” Mark called, rushing back into the house. His feet cracked as he moved over the broken crockery and glass littering the kitchen floor. Mark didn’t care. “Fernando!” he demanded. Fernando was just in the gym, yeah? It was fine. Mark darted across the back garden and into the second building on the property. Empty. The pool was incriminatingly still. “FERNANDO!” Mark collapsed in the doorway, being illuminated by the heat of the morning. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t have a clue what was happening. He just needed to know Fernando was safe and Fernando was fine. How on earth had he not realised this sooner? He had had a wank and a shower! He should have been searching! How could he be so careless? “FERNANDO!” Mark sobbed, falling forwards and gasping for breath. He dry retched four times, clutching at his side as he tried to think straight.

His work mind suddenly kicked into gear.

He moved back towards the blood-covered rock. No, that wasn’t enough to have killed someone, not nearly enough. But whoever was bleeding was bleeding badly. That would have left a trail. Mark scanned the area with his eyes, gritting his teeth in annoyance at himself as he noticed the blood that would lead him where he needed to go. He was pissed that he had initially overlooked such a detail, but right now wasn’t the time. Moving forwards, he tracked the blood moving down the hill, deep into the greenery. _Perfect,_ Mark thought. _If there was a struggle through here then there will definitely be a trail._ Mark wasn’t wrong. He followed the clearly carved path through the trees ending up by the fence that marked the edge of Fernando and his land. The fence was ruined. Whomever it was had kicked into it until it gave, obviously realising they weren’t getting back out the way they got in. Mark stepped out onto the road, watching as a car whipped passed. This was where his trail ended.

He swore, loudly. Whoever had done this had done it before. It was clean, almost to perfection. Apart from the blood and the path of destruction in their wake. Or maybe that was deliberate. Did the abductors want Mark to know they had been there? Mark wasn’t sure. He was sure, however, that they had taken Fernando. Reaching into his pocket, he began ringing his boyfriend as if to be proven wrong.

He was not.

“Agent Webber. I’ve been waiting for this call.” A smirking voice said down the line. Mark gritted his teeth.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Oh no, hostility will not do.” The voice returned. Mark felt his anger increase. “You are probably curious as to why we’ve done this-”

“-You lay one hand on him and I will kill you all.” Mark spat. He was met with a chuckle.

“When you have no idea where we are? No, no, Webber. I don’t think so.”

“Fuck sake!”

“Should really control that anger, Webber. Is not so good.”

“I’m warning you-”

“-Am sure the agency does not like this emotional attachment. Make you weak, no? Vulnerable…”

“Not really.” Mark stated coolly. “We’re just friends.”

“Am sure this is true.” The speaker said in a tone that showed he was disbelieving. “Would not care if we kill him then?” It was a bluff, a test, and Mark knew it. Hadn’t he played the same game too many times? Right now Mark knew how he should play it, but he couldn’t. “Webber…? Hmm, obviously doesn’t care enough… Sh-”

“-Don’t.” Mark bit harshly, tears stinging in his eyes.

“Friends, of course.”

“Put him on the phone.” Mark breathed hotly.

“No, do not think-”

“-Put him on this fucking phone!” Mark snarled. There was a moment of silence.

“Mark? Hello, are you there?” Fernando’s voice was panicked; he was scared.

“Fernando…” Mark exasperated, relieved. “Alright, buddy, stay calm.”

“Say they are going to-!”

“-I told you not to say anything, Fernando.” The speaker’s voice returned. Mark shook his head.

“Put him back on!”

“You do not get to set the rules anymore, Webber. Now is my game.”

“And what is it you want? Money?”

“No, no. I want information.”

“Of course…” Mark sighed. Wasn’t that always the way?

“You’re going to hack into MI6 for me, and you’re going to give me everything on how I hack into them, then you’re going to delete everything they have on me, then you’re going to take them down.”

“One too many instructions there, mate.” Mark snapped. He got another chuckle for his troubles.

“Am not sure you are going to be wanting to make any more jokes, Webber.” The voice said. Mark opened his mouth to respond but instead heard a cry of pain: Fernando. “So, are you willing to help or do we just kill him now?”

“I’m not hacking into MI6, mate. No chance.” Mark bit, tears in his eyes. There was a sigh.

“Maybe we start you a little smaller then. Kill Brawn.” Mark laughed.

“No one knows where he fucking is.”

“Kill the plant by taking away the root.”

“I’m not going to be doing that either.”

“Shame…” Mark heard a gun shot down the phone. He froze, his blood running cold. “Was nice taking to you, Webber-”

“-Put Fernando on this phone.” Mark forced himself to say. He was falling apart but his voice was as cold as stone.

“May be a little difficult…”

“PUT FERNANDO ON THIS PHONE!” Mark screamed down the phone. A deadly silence followed his demand.

“M-Mark…?”

“What did they do to you?” Mark asked desperately, pressing the phone desperately to his ear. Fernando breathed shakily in his ear.

“Shot… Shot the c-chair…”

“Are you hurt?”

“N-no… Mark, please-”

“-Do we have your co-operation then, Webber.” The voice asked. Mark closed his eyes.

“Don’t… Don’t hurt him…”

“We won’t have to if you work with us.” The voice nodded reassuringly. “You have my word.”

Mark swallowed. There had to be a way around this. But right now he needed Fernando safe.

“Alright…”

“You’ll kill Brawn?”

“… I’ll kill Brawn…”


	2. The First Words Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark starts taking the necessary steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #ForzaJules

“Can I get anyone any tea?” Jenson asked, trying to break the silence that filtered around the room. Horner continued to tap noisily on his keyboard as Mark glared at the far wall. Sebastian sat uncomfortably between Mark and Horner, opposite Kevin who was chewing nervously on his lip.

“I think it’s best we start, Agent Button.” Horner nodded, eyes still glued on the laptop in front of him.

“Finally.” Mark muttered as Jenson took the seat next to him. Horner spun the laptop around.

“Right, so we’ve all come out here to Spain because Agent Webber has reported an abduction from his house.” Horner declared, looking at each of the agents. “At 08:52 it was discovered that Fernando Alonso had been taken from his home. How, we are not yet sure and by who, we do not yet know.”

“We do.” Mark said darkly, folding his arms tightly. Horner raised an eyebrow at him.

“We do?”

“You’ve heard the phone conversation, don’t pretend you haven’t.” Mark spat. Horner sat, calmly.

“And we can safely assume that you agreement to kill me was a lie to gain their trust?” Mark flicked his eyes down from Horner to the laptop in front of his boss. The same unknown location of a dark room surrounded Brawn as he looked out at the four agents surrounding him.

“Of course, Sir. I can happily swear on Fernando’s life. It’s so they think they’ve got me right where they want me.”

“Good.” Brawn nodded, sitting back.

“I think the most important thing is that we work out how the hell this happened.” Horner said, getting to his feet. Mark watched him closely.

“The test results came back from Agent Webber’s blood test.” Kevin said quietly, pulling out the file and sliding it across the table to Horner. Horner nodded, collecting it up and scanning his eyes over it. “It appears he was drugged so he wouldn’t be able to intervene with Fernando’s abduction. Injected into the side of his neck as he slept.”

“That would explain the bruise.” Mark muttered, rubbing the tender area just below his right ear.

“This is why you should have allowed us to place CCTV cameras around the house, Mark. Then we would know who had taken him, where to start.” Jenson said. Mark glared at him.

“Sure, and then you could watch Fernando and me-”

“-That’s enough, gentlemen.” Brawn declared from the screen. Jenson closed his mouth, ready to argue with Mark. “We are all very aware of the sensitivity of this subject. Let’s not breach it.”

“And we do know who has taken him.” Mark shot hotly. Jenson folded his arms.

“Then what the fuck do you need us for?”

“Agent Button-”

“-You’re supposed to make sure this doesn’t happen!” Mark yelled over Horner, getting to his feet.

“Sit down, Web-”

“-Me? How can I do that when you won’t let me survey the house!” Jenson matched Mark’s sharp tones, also standing.

“You’re the one who gave away my identity in the first place-!”

“-THAT’S ENOUGH.” Horner smacked the table, making both agents flinch. “I told you Agent Button was too sensitive for this case, Sir.” Horner said to Brawn. Jenson opened his mouth to argue again.

“This is the strongest team we’ve got. If anyone is compromised it’s Agent Webber, he’s too close to this.”

“If you think for one second I’m not-” Mark started aggressively.

“-You really think anyone would take you off this case?” Sebastian scoffed. Mark turned his glare to the German. “Seriously? You’re the asset. You’re the one on the inside. No matter how close you are to the case we need you on it.”

“Agent Vettel is right.” Horner nodded. Kevin glanced round the table cautiously.

“What’s Fernando’s blood type, Mark?” Nico Hulkenberg asked, walking into the meeting, fingers tapping on the tablet in his hands. Mark frowned at him.

“What?”

“Fernando’s blood type? We’re analysing the blood from the rock.”

“I… I’m not sure…” Mark admitted quietly. The other men in the room frowned at him.

“You don’t know?”

“Well it’s not really one of the questions you ask, is it? Hi, I’m Mark – A positive, how about you?” Mark shot sarcastically. Nico rolled his eyes.

“How are you doing with the analysis?” Brawn asked.

“Well, we’ve concluded thus far that Fernando didn’t go easily-”

“-I could have told you that.” Mark spat. Nico ignored him.

“But there is a couple of things that don’t add up.” He finished. Now it was Mark’s turn to be confused.

“Like what?” Horner prompted.

“Well, firstly it’s a clean break to get in but the door is damaged from the outside.”

“So? Fernando could have tried to get back in?” Mark suggested.

“But not fought to keep the door closed in the first place?” Nico suggested. Mark narrowed his eyes at the German. “And the kitchen, to start, doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t understand, mate.” Mark bit through gritted teeth. Nico rolled his eyes.

“Why not struggle all the way down the stairs but suddenly kick up a stink in the kitchen? The kitchen is out of the way to the door, you have to literally cross the house to get to the kitchen.”

“Maybe they found him in the kitchen?” Mark shrugged, not sure what Nico was implying.

“You told us he was in bed with you.” Sebastian pointed out.

“And what would have been the point in drugging you if he wasn’t?” Jenson inputted. Mark averted his glower back to Nico.

“So what’s your point, mate?” Mark snapped. Nico remained calm.

“Something doesn’t add up.”

“Are you saying Fernando just _went_ with them?” Mark got to his feet.

“Not at all.”

“Mark.” Horner warned. Mark fell heavily back into his chair. “Let them do their job.”

“If you can remember Fernando’s blood type, let us know.” Nico nodded before leaving the room again.

“Right, so plan of-” Horner’s summary was cut off by Mark’s ringtone sounding heavily through the room, vibrating intensely on the table. Mark reached for it but Horner’s hand got their first.

“Headphones please, gentlemen. Everyone remain silent.” Brawn ordered and Horner plugged the transmitter into the device. He slid the phone back over the table towards Mark, waiting. As per their training, every other agent fell silent, slipping their earpieces into their ears. Mark took a deep breath, looking down at the phone before he collected it into his hand.

“Hello?” Mark asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“Mark?”

“Fernando?”

“Mark…” Fernando’s voice sounded relieved. It unnerved the Australian.

“You’ve not phoned from your number…”

“No, Webber, because we know you’re probably already tracing his number.” The voice said from the background. Mark locked eyes with Horner; that was the abductor.

“Excellent stuff, mate. How can I help?”

“Fernando here has some questions. I thought it best he heard the answers from you.” Mark swallowed uncomfortably. This could only be bad.

“I’m sure you’ve already answered them for him.” Mark bit. Horner shook his head.

“No, no we wouldn’t take away that privilege. Five questions, Fernando, ask them.”

“Is not-” Fernando started in a weak voice.

“-You are to ask _those_ five questions, Fernando. We don’t want another mistake, do we?” Jenson and Kevin exchanged a knowing look. Mark clenched his hand into a fist.

“What have you done?” Mark snarled. Horner hung his head but Brawn kept his eyes locked on Mark, calculating.

“Ahh, no. Fernando is asking the questions.” The voice smirked. “Go ahead, _Nano._ ”

“Don’t you dare fucking-” Mark started, but Horner held his hand up to stop him.

“Don’t what, Webber?” Horner insistently pressed his finger to his lips, his over hand pressing the earpiece into his ear. Mark just exasperated. “The five please, Fernando.”

“Do not-” The click of a safety being release from a gun echoed in the evidently spacious room. Sebastian’s breath caught as he watched Mark closely. Mark’s eyes were closed.

“Fernando?” Mark started softly. “Mate… Just ask…”

“What…” Fernando’s voice was barely a whisper. “What…”

“You’ll have to speak louder than that.” The voice sneered. A small whimper escaped Fernando’s lips.

“Mark…”

“It’s alright buddy. Just ask me. I’ll answer anything you ask.” Horner was glaring at him but Mark knew he had to answer Fernando’s questions. If he didn’t that gun was going to let out a critical shot.

“What is… Is Battleside?” Fernando’s voice was shaking terribly. Mark closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Horner’s desperation for him to remain silent.

“Battleside is what my department is classed as. We take on the more… Extreme cases…” Horner was glaring at Mark but Mark couldn’t see him. Brawn just kept watching, listening.

“We?” Fernando muttered. “Ahh…”

“That’s not one of the five.” The voice spat. Mark hadn’t realised he had sat forwards until Jenson was prying his fingers from the desk.

“What… I-is your next… Battleside next mission?” Fernando choked. Mark glared at the far wall.

“We have a lead on the investigation into the Marussia case. We think we’ve got the man.”

“The man?” Fernando asked, his voice revealing he was completely confused. These were not Fernando’s questions but probably questions he was being forced to ask by his abductors. The cry of pain they all heard had them looking panicked at Mark. Mark was on his feet for no particular reason.

“Just let him ask the fucking questions! He’s doing what you ask! Leave him alone!” Mark pleaded. A heavy thud was followed by silence.

“W-w-who… Who is… Lead….?” Fernando gasped, his breath sounding wheezy. Horner directed Sebastian and Jenson to get Mark back in his seat.

“Ecclestone.” Mark barked. Relenting to the hands on him.

“What will you do… Do with t-the lettura file?”

“Read it, work out what their plan was so we can prevent it.” Mark exhaled heavily. There was suddenly an uncomfortable silence as the agents waited for the last question.

“Is done now.” Fernando said, worry in his voice. Mark closed his eyes, shaking his head. _No, Fernando, just ask it._

“One left.” The voice reminded.

“Am done.”

The shot rang out and Mark threw his eyes open. No, they hadn’t killed him. They had tried to scare him. They had shot to scare him. If they killed Fernando they lost Mark’s cooperation. For that reason they wouldn’t kill him. Hurt him, yes, but they wouldn’t kill him.

“Next time it won’t just be a flesh wound.” The voice stated darkly. Mark swallowed, trying not to think about where Fernando had been hit.

“W-why did y-y-you lie to…Uh… T-tuh-t-to me…?” Fernando exhaled, already sounding exhausted. Mark shook his head.

“Where did they shoot you?” Mark asked, gripping tightly to the desk.

“Answer his question.” The voice smiled.

“Where did they shoot you, Fernando?”

“… Leg…” Fernando gasped.

“That’s Ok. It’s bleeding, right? That’s all it does. You can’t be hurt by it. Mate, you’ll be fine. Just stay conscious.”

“… Tired…”

“No, Fernando. You’re not allowed to go to sleep until you’re safely back in my arms.”

“… ‘Kay…”

“Answer his question, Webber.” The voice insisted. “Why did you lie to him? Four years together and you’ve been lying to him for all of that time!”

“To keep you safe, Fernando. I lied to keep you safe. There has been a complication but I’m coming to get you, Fernando. I’ll be there soon.” The voice laughed at Mark.

“No you won’t. You’ve got no where to start.”

“You obviously don’t know me very well, mate.”

“What have you got, your little Battleside ready to rush to his aid? It won’t work. You won’t find him.”

“We’ll see, mate.” A silence followed.

“We’ll be calling soon, Webber. We’ve got some more instructions for you-”

“-Wait.” Fernando’s small voice sounded. Mark frowned.

“Yeah, will be speaking soon-”

“-Wait… Mark? Please?”

“Fernando?”

“Goodbye, Webber-”

“-Mark! Por favor ayuda, están planeando matarte-” The line went dead and Mark sat with wide eyes. Everyone listening in to the call had been able to translate Fernando’s Spanish, but whether Fernando’s captives could was another question.

“We need to keep this as quiet as possible.” Brawn announced. “No one discusses this outside these meetings.”

“That is going to be tough.” Kevin said sheepishly. Jenson nodded in agreement. “He’s supposed to be at a Grand Prix next weekend.”

“His team will need to be informed he’s not going to show. They’ll need a replacement.” Sebastian said.

“Or we get a decoy?” Jenson shrugged.

“That would never work. Fernando’s driving style is too iconic. A novice couldn’t replicate that.” Mark said. Kevin couldn’t help but agree.

“Then we have a week.” Horner said. Mark shook his head.

“This is going to take longer than a week.”

“Considering you just handed over classified information-!” Horner stared but he was silenced by Brawn.

“-If he hadn’t have done they would have been suspicious.” Brawn explained. “Agent Webber did what he had to.”

“Brilliant.” Horner seethed.

“Stay close, agents. We’ll split you up to try and cover this on all fronts. Your missions will be delivered as soon as. The Alonso case is now of top priority.”

“A week? We’re never going to get this complete in a week.” Sebastian said to Kevin as they left the dinning room.

Mark couldn’t help but agree.


	3. The Parcel From No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a crazy world where there is nothing to be done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been ages updating this one! I got stuck on a block about two years ago and... yeah
> 
> Hoping to finish this one off in one foul sweep so hopefully a lot of updates will be coming for this one in the next few weeks! 
> 
> This chapter is kind of a set-up chapter, so don't get your hopes too high for it. It's also the chapter that has held a block on this work for a very long time so I apologise if some of it isn't written particularly well. It has gotten to the point where I needed to grit my teeth and get through this to get it posted and get this story moving again. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~FormulaFerrari  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was a bizarre situation to be in. There was a hell of a lot of activity surrounding Mark but he couldn’t feel less connected to it. It felt like he was stuck in a slow time zone whilst everyone else flashed around him, moving at three times his speed. He hated this. Hated feeling like a useless spare part. If this was any other case he’d be knees deep in investigations, searching for any clues or helping to track down the first trace of evidence that had been found. But he couldn’t. Whether someone higher up was blocking him or whether he had gone into that phase of shock the victims usually fell into at some point he didn’t know.

He needed a distraction, and that clearly wasn’t going to be found here standing in his kitchen doorway watching the forensics team dust down every surface they could find.

“Nico,” Mark said, shattering the slow down the moment he stepped away from the doorframe. It was like popping a bubble. Mark grabbed Nico’s arm to stop him and to stabilise himself as life rushed back at him at a hundred miles per hour. “Nico, there has to be something I can do.”

“We’re pretty busy, Mark.” Nico said apologetically, removing Mark’s hand from him. Mark didn’t let him take a second step away from him.

“Right then. There must be something I can do.”

“I’m sorry-”

“-Fucking hell, just give me a brush or a file or, fuck, just make me file some shit. I don’t care I just need something to do.” Mark begged, his grip on Nico getting tighter. Nico just sent him a remorseful look as he, once again, took Mark’s arm off him.

“How about you go get some coffee. You’ve had a lot to take in over the last couple of hours.”

“You’re gonna let me in my kitchen to make coffee?” Mark scoffed.

“No. There is a truck outside.” Mark deflated at Nico’s connotation; he wanted him away from the crime scene. “I’m sorry, Mark-”

“-Is there really nothing I can do?”

“This isn’t your department. You wouldn’t even know what you were looking for. And with so little clues in such a delicate crime scene we need only professionals on this one.” Nico patted Mark’s shoulder before moving away. “I think that coffee may really help.”

Without another word Mark sulked out the front door, getting a grumpy huff from the detective inspecting the damage on the outside of the door. He didn’t care. Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets Mark moved over to the coffee station that had been set up, pouring himself out a black coffee. He always drank black coffee when he was working on a case. Black coffee with two sugars; the mixture of strong caffeine and the sugar hit made him more alert and sharpened his mind. After his first sip, Mark felt like returning to Nico and demanding he put him to use somewhere. Surely he could be much more help now he had his work mind on.

But Nico and Horner - and even Brawn for that matter – had been expressively clear; he was apparently going to be as distant from this case as was humanly possible. He was being treated as the victim. Only being held around because they needed to use him. He was just the victim and the asset. Mark almost wanted to test his theory out by going to ask someone for an update. If everyone told him they would ‘let him know as soon as they found something out’ then he was simple here because the kidnappers were talking to him about the ransom charges.

Mark took himself far away from the bustle of movement going on around his house. The forensic teams had set up inside and out, with a large white marquee acting as a pop-up lab. Mark had seen this drill many times before, he just never realised how quickly the team could set up shop. He always arrived hours after the initial detective got in and simply took the findings file to take the investigation further.

Taking a long sip from his coffee, Mark left the familiar taste flow through his mouth and mind, letting his work impulses take over. It was the only way he could stop himself from marching back into the house and demanding to be told what was going on or to be given something to do. He closed his eyes, pretending that Horner had just handed him his case file and he was trying to assess the situation he was dealing with.

But automatically a frown fell on Mark’s face because the continuing investigation made no sense at all. They knew who had taken Fernando and they knew why Fernando had been taken, so why were the forensic team scanning for prints? Why were they investigating the path Mark had already run down to find the broken fence at the end? What else were they hoping to find? Or were they just pretending to look busy? Is this what the team did for the victims where there was nothing left to search for? Pretend to be busy so the victim felt like the investigation was still going on? Was that why there was nothing for Mark to be doing?

Mark swore loudly as the hot coffee burned his hand, the paper cup having been squashed and cracked in his tight fist. He dropped the mess to the floor, wiping his hand on his jeans to try and dry it off a bit. The lump in his pocket caught his attention as he tried to dry his hand. There was no reason to, but Mark pulled his phone out of his jeans, clicking the home button to show his lock screen. As expected, there were no messages; just the image of Fernando smiling back at him. It pulled at Mark’s heart. The one thing he was supposed to do and he had failed. He had made so many promises to keep Fernando safe, told so many lies and kept so many secrets to make sure Fernando never got tied up in his work life. And now Fernando was missing because of one mistake, one secret revealed to the wrong person. One blunder on one mission and now Fernando’s life was in danger.

Mark had to do something. He couldn’t just sit there knowing it was his fault that Fernando could be injured, his fault that Fernando was most definitely scared for his life, and not do anything. His fingers shook a little as he scrolled through his recent calls, finding the name that he wanted to be sat beside him right now. Fernando would know exactly what to say to calm Mark down in this situation but there was nothing Mark could do to hold his hand and tuck him under his arm right now. Without a second thought, Mark clicked on Fernando’s name, pressing the phone shakily to his ear as it started to ring.

_Hola, you have reached the phone of Fernando Alonso. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible._

It was a few seconds after the beep that Mark hung up the phone. He considered, briefly, leaving a message for Fernando but the purpose for doing such a thing was not clear in Mark’s head. Mark tapped the phone against his chin, his mind spiralling out of control. This is what it felt like to be the victim. All those people Jenson and he had been glad they hadn’t had to deal with because they looked a complete mess; now he was the mess. He was the one sat in the corner slowly coming to terms with what had happened and losing their mind.

Mark shook his head. He would not sit here and become the in-shock victim. He was a professional.

_Hola, you have reached the phone of Fernando Alonso. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible._

“Hi, Fernando…” Mark opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before hanging up. Hi Fernando? What the hell was he going to leave in that message? Oh, hi Fernando, noticed you’d been kidnapped, hope you’re OK, I’ll try and see you soon? No. Mark ran a tight hand through his hair, pulling it a little in punishment for being so stupid. Now he was becoming the crazy victim. Mark shoved the phone deep in his pocket, storming over to make another coffee.

_Hola, you have reached the phone of Fernando Alonso. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible._

It was like a drug. With nothing to do, Mark found himself finding solace in Fernando’s voice. For the brief ten seconds Fernando was talking, Mark could close his eyes and pretend none of this was happening. Pretend that Fernando was right beside him and he was chatting away as he usually did in the mornings, sometimes talking so fast and accidently changing to Spanish even Mark didn’t notice. He’d left a handful of half messages, just chatting to Fernando before realising it was just a voice message. Just hearing Fernando calmed Mark down immensely. He couldn’t stop. He was addicted to his boyfriend’s voice.

_Hola, you have reached the phone of Fernando Alonso. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible._

Mark nearly dropped the phone in shock when it rang in his hands. He barely even looked at the caller I.D. his head to fixated on Fernando. Maybe, like when they had fought in the past, the relentless phone calls had finally made Fernando break the wall of silence between them.

“Fernando?” Mark asked hopefully. His hope was short lived.

“Because kidnappers would just let him phone you freely.” The sarcastic voice of Horner returned. Mark rolled his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Entertaining myself.” Mark muttered, scuffing his feet on the ground.

“Well stop it. He doesn’t have his phone anymore. You know that. They probably destroyed that after the first phone call.” Mark could only think about the many times Fernando had snapped pictures of the pair of them cuddled up together somewhere. Mark wished now that he had asked Fernando to send them to him. At least he would have them. Horner was right; they were probably lost forever on the phone that the kidnappers had destroyed the moment they hung up in the car. “You need to keep this phone free in case they call you back on it.”

“Of course you’ve tapped my phone.”

“You know the drill, Mark.” Horner said emotionlessly. It was the confirmation Mark needed: he was being treated the victim. “Put this phone in your pocket and don’t touch it unless someone phones you. I’ll know if you’re using it.”

“So all my privacy privileges are gone now?”

“You know the drill, Mark.” Horner repeated before hanging up. Mark gripped the phone tightly in his hand, wanting nothing more than to throw it across the stoned driveway. But he knew that wasn’t an option. This may be his only link to Fernando. And any link to Fernando was a lifeline. With a deep breath, Mark pushed the phone deep into his pocket, deciding that making another coffee would be a good way to distract himself further.

Mark couldn’t help thinking, constantly, that his phone was buzzing in his pocket. Time and time again he would retrieve it from his pocket just to be met with Fernando’s smiling face. It was tantalising and taunting and Mark was going absolutely mental. He tried leaving the phone in one room whilst he went and sat in another but it never worked, he just found himself going back to it every ten seconds to check he hadn’t missed anything.

\- - - -

The phone was under his pillow when he climbed into bed that night. The forensics team had finally left but he still wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. It was weird being alone in the house after it had been filled with people coming in and out of it all day. The silence made Mark restless. That and the fact that his bed was empty and the phone inches from his hand could ring or buzz at any second.

He tried to sleep but it felt futile. Each time he got to the point of nodding off to sleep he woke abruptly, thinking his phone had buzzed. It never had. Just Fernando smiling back out at him. Teasing, reminding Mark what he had failed to protect and failed to keep safe. He slammed the phone down angrily every time, glaring at the wall and trying to bring himself to sleep.

Mark frowned round at the bedroom door suddenly. It sure sounded like someone had just opened the front door. Maybe it was Nico coming back in to look for something else? Or one of the other members of the forensic team? Surely they would call out if it was them though? Mark shook his head; he was full of caffeine and sugar and paranoia about his phone. There was a big chance that he had made up the door sound in his head.

It was just after he had closed his eyes that he was certain he heard a door slam. Louder than the first, Mark had thrown back the bed sheets quicker than he could think, already on his feet and heading out the bedroom door. He grabbed the closest thing to him as he headed towards the stairs, managing to arm himself with an umbrella. He took the stairs quickly, pressing himself up against the wall to stay in the shadows, his ears strained from any other sounds.

After standing there for ten minutes and the only sound being his own breath, Mark relaxed a little, moving further into the house. He poked his head into the kitchen, but seeing the police tape over the door looked like it had not been disturbed he moved on. He didn’t need another bollocking from Horner about messing with the crime scene. As soon as Mark set foot into the lounge it made sense why the front door had been slammed. He left the umbrella by the door; confident that who ever had got into his house was no longer there.

Mark looked down at the parcel sat in the middle of the table. Someone had clearly snuck in and left it there, so whoever it was did not want MI6 to know it had been delivered. Mark’s palms began to sweat as he picked it up off the coffee table. He had an inkling that the kidnappers had made this special delivery. This had to be linked to Fernando’s disappearance. Mark wasn’t worried that it could be anything to hurt him; the kidnappers wanted him for information. This early in the game it would be foolish to hurt Mark. However, hurting Fernando was clearly on the table. Mark swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he opened the jiffy bag and tipped the contents onto the table.

A dated, old Motorola flip phone bounced onto the table, causing Mark to flinch as the sound broke the silent evening. Mark picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if something would be on it to make the delivery make sense. Tearing the envelope it had arrived in open, there was no note or no explanation as to why the old phone had been given to Mark. He frowned at it, about it open it up when a text alert pinged through. Mark didn’t hesitate to open up the phone, clicking read on the message that had come through from an unknown number.

_Your phone has been tagged. This phone will be used for contact. DO NOT tell MI6. This phone does not exist. Or there will be consequences._

Mark took a deep breath. Of course the kidnappers would know MI6 had tagged Mark’s phone. In all honestly it wouldn’t take a genius to work that out, and they way they got Fernando out it was clear they were not new to this game. Mark weighed up his options. Would MI6 be happy and trust him to relay the messages that came to this phone? Or would they tag this one as well? If they tagged it, the kidnappers would know Mark told MI6 and that could mean worse things for Fernando. No. He couldn’t tell them. Anything that put Fernando at any more risk than he was already in was not happening.

Mark closed off the message, a deep frown setting on his face as the picture of Fernando that he had been staring at all day appeared. The wallpaper for the Motorola was the same as the one he had set on his personal phone. That was impossible because he was the only one with access to that photo. How had the kidnappers gotten hold of a photo only Mark had access to? That in itself freaked Mark out most. He suddenly felt like nothing was secret, that all his skeletons were dancing out of the cupboard for all to see.

If the kidnappers could get hold of that photo, what else had they managed to accumulate?


	4. The Four Days Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empathy can sometimes be a bitch

Four days had passed. Nothing had happened. There had been no word from Fernando, no word from the investigation, no nothing. Mark was just told again and again to stay in the house, stay by the phone and report anything that happened. But nothing happened. Mark was going stir-crazy, resenting the walls of a house that once meant so much to him. He couldn’t take the stillness. If it had been bad in the 24 hours following Fernando’s abduction it was unbearable now. He felt like he was stuck in a bubble, a glass dome that wouldn’t let him move from this point. Only the rising and the setting of the sun gave Mark any indication that time was still moving forwards.

Four days had passed and Fernando was no closer to being home than he had been.

“What is everyone else doing?” Mark asked, walking through his house behind Horner. It was just another fleeting visit to keep an eye on the investigation. Mark was super confused as to why it was still going on now; there was nothing new to be found. There were no clues around this house as to where they had taken Fernando; Mark was confident that, by now, if there was something to be discovered then it would have been. Now it just seemed like the investigation was an excuse to have people wandering in and out of the house for no apparent reason. Maybe they were all still there just to keep an eye on Mark.

“Everyone else is doing their job, Mark.” Horner sighed, heading for the front door. “With no leads there really isn’t a lot more we can be doing at the moment.” He turned to the Australian just before he crossed the threshold. “Have you heard anything?”

“You’re tagging my phone.” Mark shrugged, folding his arms. The second phone he had been sent appeared to refuse to receive any kind of messages, however much Mark stared at it.

“We’re doing the best we can-”

“-Well it doesn’t fucking feel like it.” Mark snapped, his patience with not having any news running out. “He’s been missing four days.”

“You don’t think we know this?”

“You’re honestly telling me this fucking investigation has been going on four days and you’ve got nothing?”

“You’ve been told, Mark. Some things don’t add up with the break in. That’s why this investigation is still going on. We’re trying to work out how they got in here and out with Fernando.”

“What’s Jenson doing? Seb? Kevin? At least tell me they’re out looking?”

“Where do you want them to start?” Horner sent back just as hotly. Mark’s hands curled into fists.

“Maybe their headquarters?”

“They’d be stupid to take him there and you know it.”

“Have we even checked?”

“What’s the point?”

“What is a scout around going to hurt? We’ve got all these files on them, all this information and none of it can give us any sort of lead?”

“I know this is hard for you, Mark, but at the moment there really isn’t anything else to be done. There is no lead, no way of tracking them, and we have no warrant to go barging in there and search the place.”

“We’ve not needed a warrant before….”

“You are on strict orders to stay right here.” Horner reiterated, recognising the look in Mark’s eyes. “You or none of our agents are to set foot on their premises. We already had one slip up last time we went in there and that’s lead us to a missing person case.” Mark glared at the floor, folding his arms tightly. “I know it isn’t what you want to hear right now but you have to be patient. They won’t hurt him; they know they need him to get to you.”

“I’d prefer they didn’t have him at all.” Mark snarled. Horner shook his head.

“We will get him back.” Horner said sympathetically, opening the front door. “We just need one small lead and we’ll be all over it. Everyone is on standby, Mark. This case is of the upmost importance.”

It certainly didn’t feel like it was that important. In fact, it felt like everyone was forgetting about it. Nico hadn’t been back to the house in two days which lead Mark to believe he had already been assigned to some other case. That was probably true. That also meant that they knew there was nothing left to be found in the crime scene.

Mark wanted everyone out of the house. He wanted his space back, he wanted to be able to sit and think and try and work out where the hell the captors had taken Fernando. There was scarcely a place in the house where Mark could be on his own; there always seemed to be someone in the room with him. The only moments of relief Mark got was when he took himself off for a jog. It did nothing to clear his mind but at least it got him out of the house for a while.

It was on these runs that Mark could also check the phone he had been sent. With so many people around the house it wasn’t like he could check it whilst in their vicinity. If not telling MI6 about it got Fernando back faster then the flip phone would be his little secret. Mark wasn’t above going rouge. The amount of missions he’d saved by ignoring orders and going with his instinct was enough to lead him to believe his instinct was reliable.

Mark had taken himself out for a run just after Horner had left. He was too angry with the update he had been given and if another junior detective asked him if he wanted a cup of tea he was liable to take his anger out on them. It wasn’t worth being taken in to a victim secure hold. Mark had seen the poor sods dragged in there when a victim’s case became too much for them to deal with on their own. Something Mark was now starting to understand a little too well. It allowed MI6 to keep an eye on the victims and, like in Mark’s case, keep them accessible if they were a crucial part of the case.

Taking the same route he always did, Mark stopped at the small break in the trees and sat on the flat rock that had become his resting point. Checking his surroundings to make sure he hadn’t been followed, Mark pulled the old Motorola out of his pocket and flipped it open. He stared at it for five minutes, his eyes unblinking as he looked at the dim light that the phone emitted. But there was nothing. No messages, no missed calls. It was like he’d been given the phone as a torment. Another strand of hope that was really just tied off to the wall.

Once again, Mark found himself opening up the messages folder. Only one message sat in there. The one he had read over and over; the one that gave him the instructions to using this phone. _Your phone has been tagged. This phone will be used for contact. DO NOT tell MI6. This phone does not exist. Or there will be consequences._ Mark snapped the phone shut in anger, but the anger didn’t last for long. The worry that hung over his head every day crept back over his shoulders. Pressing the phone between his palms, Mark slumped forwards, resting his chin on his hands. How had this all happened? How had his life come to this?

He knew it was pointless and stupid but it was the only thing keeping him slightly sane. Running a hand through his hair, Mark opened up the phone again and started typing in a number. In some respects, Mark was glad to have the second phone. At least he could make this call as often as he wanted to and not be pulled up on it or told to stop. Exhaling slowly, Mark pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. He would always hope the rings would cut short, even though he knew they never would.

_Hola, you have reached the phone of Fernando Alonso. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible._

“Hi, mate… Just me again…” Mark felt pathetic, running a hand over his face. “Look it’s been…. I’m really missing you now, Nano… I just… I just want you back. I want to try everything, _anything_ to get you back here but I’m not… It’s complicated…” Mark looked around pointlessly, his emotions caught in his throat. “I…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and dropping his head. “I love you, Fernando. And I don’t want you to forget that. Just… Just promise me that whatever they do, whatever they say, I love you and I’m going to get you back safe and sound. I never meant for any of this to happen… I’m so sorry…” Mark snapped the phone shut as his emotions overcame him, dropping his face into his hands. He couldn’t stop the images of Fernando, beaten and bruised, filling his head every time he closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in days; the nightmares too much and too real. He knew what they did to those they had taken in to try and get information. No thought was every spared for their loved ones who were panicking because they’d been taken in the night. Mark felt sick. Was this some kind of cruel karma? Something he’d done to a dozen or more unknowns in the past was now happening to him?

He just wanted to have Fernando back; to know he was safe and unharmed.

It took him longer than normal to start heading back to the house. By now the next session of people would be in the house, dusting down every surface for any misplaced piece of dust. Mark was shocked they actually let him stay in the house with the continuing investigation going on. It just made Mark more certain that they were there for him; to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid or go against orders.

His mind circled back to Fernando as he started jogging home. What would they be doing if Fernando hadn’t have been taken? Would Mark have been off on a mission? He knew where Fernando would be; today was a Thursday and there was a race on the weekend; Thursdays were press days in Formula One. Would Mark be there with him? Standing at the back of his garage as he had done in the past, pretending to be a supportive friend because Fernando’s relationship with him couldn’t be public? Or would his own work and his own secrets have pulled him away? Mark shook his head; what he would give to be stood in some random paddock across the world by Fernando’s side, even if he was presented as a friend rather than a partner.

Mark’s feet suddenly shuffled to a stop as what he was thinking about hit him. He didn’t wait three seconds before pulling the phone out of his pocket, flipping it open, and punching in the desired number. It rang three times before it was answered.

“… Hello?”

“Jenson, the race.” Mark gasped, his free hand tangled in his hair. How could he have forgotten so easily?

“… Mark?”

“He’s supposed to be racing this weekend.”

“We are aware of that.” Jenson said softly. Mark gritted his teeth.

“You can’t put a decoy in, we spoke about this-”

“-We’re not putting a decoy in.”

“You’re also not looking for him! What happened to finding him within a week?!”

“Mark, you need to calm down. We’re doing everything we can-”

“-I’m not some freaked out rookie, Jense, I’ve done this before. I _know_ you’re bullshitting me. You’re not even looking!”

“Where are you?”

“What does that matter?! The real question is where is _he?_ You should have fucking found him by now!”

“You need to calm down.” Jenson stressed. Mark shook his head, anger pouring from his skin.

“What is the point in me sitting around all day doing nothing if you are not doing anything either!”

“Well, I don’t think you’re doing nothing.” Mark’s eyes narrowed at Jenson’s tone.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“What phone are you calling from?” Ice ran in Mark’s blood as he realised that it wasn’t his iPhone in his hand, but the old Motorola. His throat closed up. “Fancy a different number?”

“Jense-”

“-We may be able to find him quicker if you give us all the information, Mark.”

“Jenson, I don’t have this phone.” There was a moment of silence.

“… What?”

“I don’t- Jenson, you can’t tell anyone I have this.”

“… They sent it to you, didn’t they?”

“Jen-”

“-Didn’t they! God, Mark! Do you know how fucking dangerous it is to be using that! It could be anything!”

“Jenson, calm down.” Mark rolled his eyes. Sure, Jenson had a point, but just as it had been made so damn clear to him, he was the asset. There was no point in hurting Mark until they got out of it what they wanted.

“What exactly are the conditions of this phone??”

“I can hear you typing – don’t you dare trace this number!”

“I have to.”

“No you fucking don’t!” Mark growled, his hand tightening around the small device. “You fucking trace this and they’ll know. They know my other phone is being traced. That’s why they sent me this! They don’t want MI6 tracking anything. You have to trust I’ll tell you anything they tell me. Please.”

“Just like you told us about the phone.” Jenson shot sarcastically. Mark closed his eyes.

“Jenson, you don’t know what this is like. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person you love held as a fucking ransom. You don’t know how I’m feeling. If they told me to fucking run off to China and not tell anyone to get him back I fucking would. Until you’re in this position you can’t call the shots. I don’t have this phone.”

“You’re not filling me with any confidence.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” Mark repeated. “If it’s anything important I’ll tell you. But it’s been silent since I got the fucking thing.”

“I am not comfortable with this.” Jenson stressed. But it was enough for Mark to let out a relieved breath; it meant he was going to follow his request.

“Thank you.”

“And _I_ don’t care if it’s important or not; I won’t tell the others but you _have_ to tell me everything you get or hear on that phone. I don’t even care if it’s just them calling to tell you what time it is.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious – the moment I find out something after it’s happened I’m telling MI6 about that phone.”

“You have my word.”

Mark’s head was everywhere but his run as he headed back to the house. He was almost surprised that he’d managed to make it back home; his feet clearly on autopilot as his head spiralled every which way it could. He’d been so concerned about Fernando missing his race he hadn’t thought to make sure he had the right phone in his hand. He just wanted answers. It was coming clear scarily fast how the victims in these situations unravelled at the seams and ended up in worse situations than they needed to.

Mark was just about to turn onto his road when his pocket vibrated. His breath stuck in his throat as he fought his pocket to release the Motorola it had been housing. Was this it? Was radio silence finally over? Was he about to get some sort of news as to how to find Fernando? A message notification sat on the screen, but the heat was sapped from the day as he opened it and read the contents of the text.

_Nice save, Webber. Maybe next time don’t use this phone for social calls. You better hope your friend didn’t lie – the minute this phone gets tracked it will be the end of communications. If we no longer have a need for you there will no longer be a need for your friend._

Mark gagged, throwing his hand over his mouth as he crouched forwards. His fear of anything happening to Fernando… What had he done? He’d not only told someone he was double crossing MI6 but now he potentially put Fernando’s life in more danger. The game was unending. There was no escaping this nightmare. It was too real to wake up from. Mark’s hands shook as he crouched over, trying to stabilise his breathing. It wasn’t working, especially when the phone vibrated to signal a second text came through. There was barely a beat before Mark was looking back at the screen, his free hand pressed to his diaphragm.

_Stand up and take yourself inside, make a cup of tea, and turn the television on. You can have a shower after you’ve watched the news._

Mark stood bolt upright, spinning around, his eyes scanning the area he was stood in. Only someone who could see him could send that message. Only someone who could see him could know where he was; that he wasn’t in the house. There was no way this was just a good guess. Mark’s eyes locked onto any sign of movement but it was just the wind blowing gently through the trees, creating a subtle dance in the leaves. He wiped his hand across his mouth, returning his attention to the phone.

_Why don’t you come out from hiding?_

Mark sent the message with a shaky hand. It was a risky game to be playing, but it was worth a shot. If he could get a face-to-face conversation with one of the people who had taken Fernando then he was more likely able to discover Fernando’s location. It didn’t take long for a reply to come through.

_Inside. Tea. Television. This is not your game, Webber._

It was with a robot-like quality that Mark fulfilled his instructions. He felt like his every move was being watched, even the MI6 detectives seemed to be keeping a closer eye on him than normal. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, keeping his head down as he moved around and made himself a cup of tea. The few detectives stood in his kitchen gave him an odd look but neither of them said anything. They just carried on as if he wasn’t there.

Trying to keep his hand holding the tea as still as possible, Mark made his way through to the lounge. An unnerving feeling that someone else had been in here struck Mark as soon as he stepped into the room. Something felt too set up as he moved towards the sofa. Had he left the remote there? Looking so deliberate in the way it sat on the sofa cushion? Or had the texts gotten under his skin? Was he just over thinking everything? Mark sat on the seat that looked as though it might have been set up for him to sit in and collected up the remote. Placing the cup of tea in his lap, Mark took a steadying breath. He knew what he was expecting; news reports on Fernando Alonso being missing from the Grand Prix. He was going to sit here and be lambasted with reports on how he had failed to protect his partner. Maybe they wouldn’t say it that directly but Mark knew he would pull that from it. It was going to be reminder after reminder that he had failed to protect him; that he actually was missing.

When he turned the television on, the cup of tea nearly went flying across the room as he shot to his feet.

It was Fernando. Fernando was on the television, but not in the way Mark had expected him to be. Someone must have been in here and set this up because Mark had not left the television on the Sports channel. He was certain that that was not the last channel the television had been on. It screamed too perfectly that someone else had been in here and set this up. That was the idea. He was supposed to realise that they could still get in his house and fuck with him even though there were MI6 agents just in the other room. But that wasn’t what Mark was fixated on.

Fernando was fine. Fernando did not look like he had been kidnapped four days ago. Fernando was sat in a press conference, surrounded by five other drivers, talking and laughing about the weekend’s Grand Prix.

Tea sloshed onto the floor as the phone in Mark’s pocket buzzed. He pulled it out, barely able to take his eyes off the calm, relaxed Fernando, and opened up the text message.

_Now go and shower._

What the fuck was going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! OK so there were a couple of crap chapters, which I'm sorry about, but they were needed so we could get onto the good shit
> 
> now the fun begins...
> 
> *insert evil smile here*


	5. The Grand Prix Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Fernando's whereabouts known, the opportunity cannot be missed.

“We agreed. No decoy.”

“Agent Webber, we have nothing to do with this.” Horner stressed for what must have been the seventh time. “That isn’t a decoy.”

“You expect me to really believe that they just let him go?” Mark glared across the table. The other agents in the meeting had gone quiet. If there was any silver lining behind Fernando’s sudden appearance at the Grand Prix it was that it seemed to have installed a motive to get the investigation back underway.

“I highly doubt they let him go or that he escaped.” Brawn said, his voice coming from the laptop, once again, set up in front of Horner. Mark folded his arms tightly. “You think if they let him go or he escaped the first place he’d go was to a race? And not back here?”

“Then how the hell do _you_ explain what the fuck he’s doing there?!” Mark spat, sitting forwards, anger flowing form every word.

“It is clear that our captives do not want the world knowing he’s gone missing either. This is an entirely personal matter; the public would be an unwanted distraction.”

“Glad we cleared that up.” Mark shot sarcastically.

“Let’s not get off topic,” Horner said, beginning to pace. “The bottom line is this: for the first time since this investigation started we know the whereabouts of Fernando Alonso-”

“-So we’re putting a team together and heading over there right now to get him back.” Mark nodded, feeling like finally things were going his way. Horner stopped pacing, looking over at Mark with a bored expression.

“You don’t think that is exactly what they think we’re going to do?” Horner asked, as if Mark was a naïve child. Mark set his jaw. “No. The last thing we’re doing now is a rescue mission.”

“That’s fucking-!”

“-It’s a set up, Webber. We don’t want them thinking we’re playing their game.” Horner said, speaking loud so his voice overpowered Mark’s. Mark slumped back in his chair, huffing in frustration. “However,” Horner resumed his pacing, his eyes flicking off of Mark as he picked up his movement. “We can’t just sit here and let this opportunity slip out of our hands. This could be our once chance to get a lead on where Fernando is being held captive.”

“So we are going out there?” Mark asked, sitting up. It was confusing and contradicting but at least he wasn’t going to have to sit and stew in this house any longer. His body ached to be out there doing something. Plus, being trackside was Mark’s best chance at managing to get Fernando back and away from the kidnappers.

Horner continued to talk as if Mark hadn’t interrupted.

“Vettel; I want you trackside. You’re going within the team to find out the exact situation Fernando is being held in. I want to know where he goes when he’s not on camera and I want to know whom he’s with. At all times. The arrangements have been set up for you.” Sebastian nodded, picking up the envelope that Horner had slid across the desk to him. As soon as the document was in his hands he was on his feet, heading out of the room. Excitement buzzed through Mark; this was happening. The stillness was broken and now the team was getting to work.

“Button; you’re on surveillance.” Horner continued, sliding the next envelope to Jenson. “I want to know what vehicles leave that track and where they’re going. Get me car types, number plates, hell – if someone leaves that paddock on foot I want to know about it. You’ll be based just outside the circuit so if you need to intervene you’re on hand.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jenson nodded, also getting to his feet and leaving the room. Mark sat forwards in anticipation. This certainly sounded like a rescue mission even if Horner was saying it wasn’t. That gave Mark more hope that he could manipulate the situation and get Fernando back before the weekend was over.

“Magnussen,” Horner said, stepping back behind his briefcase. “You are staying here to supervise Agent Webber.” The smile fell off Mark’s face in time with the snap on the lock of Horner’s briefcase.

“WHAT?!” Mark yelled, getting to his feet as Horner started to pack away. “I’m not going?!”

“No. You’re not.” Horner said, closing down the laptop that connected them to Brawn.

“WHY NOT?!”

“You are _way_ too close to this and your track record shows you will definitely compromise this mission.”

“Why the FUCK have you put me on this team if you won’t let me get involved!?” Mark roared, moving around the table towards Horner. Kevin stood up, blocking Mark’s path with a gentle hand on his chest.

“You are the asset, Webber. We need you on this team so we know what the captives are doing. If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have got the tip off about the news.” Horner handed Mark a device that would alert the team if any activity happened on Mark’s phone. Mark frowned at it as he read a message he had never seen before in his life.

_From: Unknown_

_To: Webber, Mark_

_Message: You might want to check the news…_

Of course it made sense why the captives had sent a duplicate message to the phone they knew was being traced. If Mark’s real phone was on radio silence but he kept giving all this information and clues about Fernando the Motorola would become common knowledge very quickly. The kidnappers were playing the MI6 at their own game.

“They don’t know we’re coming but they will expect you. I’m sorry, but I have to side-line you on this one.” The supportive hand that Horner squeezed on Mark’s shoulder felt like anything but the compassion it was supposed to. “We will give you every update and complete access to any information we gather.” Passing Mark the laptop he had been using to connect Brawn to the meeting, Horner left the room. Mark’s grip on the laptop tightened as he heard the front door snap shut. After everything he’d been through in the last few days and still he was stuck in this fucking house. At least the investigation had now cleared off. It was just going to be Kevin and him.

“… Fancy a cup of tea?” The Dane asked, his voice a little quieter than usual. Mark closed his eyes, trying to take a calming breath.

“I’m going for a run.” Mark shot, slamming the laptop on the table and heading towards the front door. Kevin was hot on his heels.

“Ok, I’ll come-”

“-No.” Mark spat, pulling his trainers out of the cupboard and pushing his feet into them. Kevin folded his arms.

“You know I’m not allowed to let you go out on your own.”

“I’m going for a run, Kevin, not a fucking escape mission.” Mark pushed to his feet, opening the door. “Trust me.” He didn’t give Kevin a chance to respond as he slammed the door in his face. Knowing the young agent would most definitely follow him out of the house, Mark took a different route than usual, following the path a little way into the trees that he usually ran down before taking off off the path and deep into the greenery. He sat crouched in the bushes for fifteen minutes before he was confident if Kevin had followed him he would be on the wrong trail now.

Mark walked deeper into the forest to be safe and make sure he wasn’t being followed. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he scuffed his feet on the floor. Why couldn’t Horner have just based him with Jenson? Put him on the surveillance team? Jenson could have made sure he didn’t go anywhere and then at least Mark could feel like he was accomplishing something. Right now he just felt like a victim who was sitting around and waiting for his partner to be returned. Like sitting around and waiting ever worked.

It wasn’t fair. Mark juts wanted to help and now he was being punished because he was too close to Fernando. He just wanted the Spaniard back. Sure, he was desperate, and yes, looking at the situation from outside his perspective he would be seen as a liability on the team, but he couldn’t stand sitting around and just _waiting_. He needed to do something.

Mark took a seat in the middle of the forest floor, feeling too raw and too emotional to carry on. He pulled the Motorola out of his pocket, flipping it open and looking at the picture of Fernando that had been set as the background. How had he got this so wrong? How had his life come to this? Wanting to help and being trained and best equipped to help but being side lined? He’d never been side lined in his life. For the first time ever he was being asked to sit out of the one mission he would have given everything to be a part of.

Mark had to dry his eyes to clear his vision as a message alert blocked the picture of Fernando. Just what he needed after being given a baby sitter for the weekend. It was probably a torment.

_Should we leave this waiting for you?_

Mark wanted to throw the phone across the forest as the Bluetooth image downloaded to reveal a picture of a paddock pass. Of course it was a set up. Of course they were certain Mark was going to be there. What would be the point of giving him access to Fernando though? Were they really going to let Mark get anywhere close to him? No. Of course they weren’t. It was just another way to torture him.

_Not coming out._

Mark hit send without really thinking about it. He didn’t want this constant abuse for the next three days. He’d barely pressed send when another message came through.

_Found something more important to do with your time? He really mean that little to you?_

Anger pounded in Mark’s head, not allowing him to think straight. His fingers were manipulating the phone based on that anger along and before he knew it he’d pressed the phone to his ear, the dull sound of ringing emitting form it. His breathing was heavy as he sat listening to it ring, each duo tone convincing him more and more it was going to ring through.

“You were not asked to call.”

“Got bored of texting.” Mark sent hotly. A quiet chuckle emitted from the other end of the line.

“Well, now you have me…” The statement was left open, inviting Mark to say whatever it was he had called to say. Problem was, Mark didn’t know what he wanted to say.

“Put him on the phone.” Mark demanded. It went silent for a little while.

“He’s very busy with media commitments at the moment…”

“Bullshit. I don’t know what you’ve done to him to make him appear so calm but I want you to stop.”

“I do hope there are no surprises on their way to meet us here.” The voice on the phone said. Mark frowned. “I do hate surprises.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.”

“It appears you had a meeting this morning with your precious Battleside, as predicted of course.”

“Don’t you think if there were any surprises planned I’d be front running the thing?” Mark gritted.

“So I shouldn’t see any random agents snooping around.”

“I would doubt that.”

“And any I do…Well, I supposed if they’re not with you they can be… Disposed of?” Mark’s thought shot to Sebastian. But he was an experienced agent; it would have been set up so he couldn’t be detected. Only a slip up would reveal who he really was. Sebastian could take care of himself, plus telling the kidnappers that there was a party of agents snooping around could compromise their mission. “No?”

“What you do with whatever you find has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s good to know.” Mark could here the smirk in the voice. “Now, please excuse me. Fernando needs to get onto his next commitment.” The line went dead before Mark could say anything else. He knew it would be pointless calling the number that was sending the messages; if the number wasn’t changing every couple of hours they definitely wouldn’t answer another call to him. It had been a whimsical break from the rules of the game, but now more than ever they would be executed with caution. Mark snapped the phone shut and got to his feet, starting a slow walk back to his house.

\- - -

It took Mark just watching one free practice session and seeing Fernando sat around in the garage to decide he was disobeying orders. He couldn’t sit here as if this were normal. He couldn’t just wait and see what Jenson and Sebastian reported back. Mark refused to play the victim any more. He was a trained and one of the best secret agents on the field. He would not be side lined from the only mission he cared about. He didn’t care how predicable his actions were.

He was going and no one was going to stop him.

“Where are you off to?” Kevin asked as Mark got to his feet. Mark rolled his eyes.

“I can’t use the pisser without the third degree now?” A faint blush hit Kevin’s cheeks.

“No, sorry…”

“I’m using the toilet in my room if you need to be told that too. That’s the third door on the right upstairs. Is that OK or do you want a description of what I’ll be doing in there?”

“No, no, that’s fine.” Kevin said; his eyes glued to the television. Mark let a small smile drift onto his face as he left the room, taking two steps at a time moving towards his bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door, propping a chair behind the door handle so that the door couldn’t be opened. He knew he had a limited amount of time before Kevin came up wondering what he was doing. That should be enough time to get him set to go.

Mark always had an emergency bag stashed under the bed with all the essentials in it. He didn’t know how long this was going to take him, so throwing a random assortment of clothes in the bag Mark started packing quickly. Any weapons he would possibly need were already stashed in the emergency duffle bag so all he had to think about packing were some clothes. For good measure, Mark threw some of Fernando clothes into his bag as well; they could come in handy as a disguise, plus it made Mark feel calmer to know he had something of Fernando’s on him. Also, if he managed to get the Spaniard back at least he would have something he could dress in.

Mark was copying some important numbers off his iPhone into a notepad when the expected knock on the door came.

“Mark?”

“For fuck sake, Kevin…” Mark sighed, double-checking the last number he wrote in the notepad.

“You’ve been up here a while…” Kevin said. Mark knew he would try the door handle imminently. If Kevin discovered Mark had locked him out he was going to be busted.

“I’m having a shit, Kevin.” Mark gritted, closing up the notebook and dropping it in the top of his bag. He left his iPhone on the bedside table and double-checked the Motorola was still in his pocket.

“Oh…”

“I’ll be down soon. Can you just give me some peace?”

“Yeah… Sorry…” Mark waited to hear the telltale squeak of the second-to-last step before he zipped up the duffle bag. Throwing it over his back, he moved towards the window and threw it open. Whatever he had now would have to do; he’d maybe brought himself another twenty minutes but he wanted to use every second of that time getting a head start on Kevin. It wasn’t going to be difficult to work out where Mark was headed but at least if he had a head start he would have more time to disappear in the crowd and be harder to detect.

Mark had done this too many times before. It had been the dead of night sometimes when he’d had a call from work, needing him in. He’d snuck out this window silently whilst Fernando slept mere metres away, he could definitely do it without being detected by Kevin. Dropping to the grass that was outside of the window, Mark rushed towards the garage to get a mode of transport.

Opening the garage would be too noisy and take too long, so Mark picked Fernando’s motorbike. It would be small enough to fit out the doorway he had just walked into and he could push it down the street and start it up there without being in earshot of the house.

Parked down the street, Mark stuffed his duffle bag into the compartment in the bike that had held the leathers, before Mark put them on. He pulled on the bike helmet and straddled the machine, kicking it into life and setting off down the road. He knew he needed to pick up a cheap, disposable phone on the way to the airport; he couldn’t use his iPhone as that would mean MI6 would detect him, and he couldn’t use the Motorola because that would tip off the captives that he was on his way. Everything was in place for him to go under the radar and get to Fernando without either party realising where he was.

Mark didn’t care if MI6 wasn’t running a rescue mission; this was a rescue mission to him.


	6. The Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following could mean you're always two steps behind

It was impossible to get anywhere near Fernando. Mark couldn’t work out if that was just coincidence or if someone had worked out it was him and was making it truly impossible for him to get even a little bit close. Mark had even deliberately not buzzed into the paddock, stepping over the turnstiles instead so there was no record of him being here. But someone must have clocked him at some point.

Fernando always seemed to be surrounded by people. It was like a sea of red trying to fight to get close to him. And every time Mark managed to get into the middle of the bundle of people Fernando wasn’t there. This was almost more tormenting that when he had no idea where Fernando was. It was like trying to catch smoke; Fernando was slipping through his fingers every time he got within arm’s reach of him.

Mark had tried many things, but the problem was the Ferrari team knew him. He’d been in the garages and the paddock as Fernando’s friend too many times not to be recognisable by the scarlet team. The last thing he needed was someone recognising him and drawing attention to him. He was trying to blend into the background, not stick out like a sore thumb. The kidnappers were not supposed to think he was here.

That instantly put hiding in the Ferrari garages and waiting for Fernando to come in for a track session out of the window.

MI6 were very aware he was here now. It had taken about forty minutes for a message to come through on the Motorola. Jenson had used some initiative and text him, asking him what the fuck he was playing at. Mark had ignored the message. It wasn’t like he was putting whatever they were doing at danger, he wasn’t getting involved in their scout mission. So long as Sebastian didn’t slip up and give himself away Mark was confident the young German would be safe and concealed. It was himself he was more worried about.

With his cap pushed low, Mark was waiting outside the media centre, waiting for the post-qualifying press conference to come out. He knew Fernando was in there; he had been watching the racing from any television screen he could find to make sure he was up to date with the proceedings. This was one of his best chances to get to Fernando; his whole bodyguard of a team shouldn’t be surrounding him for at least ten foot of his journey. Then they would swoop on him like vultures. Mark had to exploit that distance. He’d been watching the way Fernando was moving around the paddock for a day and a half. He’d deduced that this was his best shot.

As soon as he saw Fernando Mark pushed off the wall he had been leaning on. His heart was in his mouth as he pushed passed people, not caring for their outbursts or yells that followed him. He felt hot, moving with purpose, he didn’t take his eyes off the man he’d been looking for for about a week. He just needed to get to him. He just needed him to know he was here.

Someone got their first, pushing a race program into Fernando’s hands to sign and lifting their phone for a selfie. Mark knew he had to blend in and thought on his feet, taking the folded program out of his back pocket.

“Do you mind?” Mark’s voice nearly broke on the small sentence. It was the first thing he had said to Fernando since this whole thing happened. The small smile stayed on Fernando’s face as he took the program from Mark’s hands.

“Of course.” Fernando said lightly. Mark didn’t hear whatever else Fernando said to him, took dazed to finally be this close to Fernando again, to finally be able to feel the heat coming off his body. He didn’t look hurt, but Mark was sure that was all a front; that the bruises were hidden either under his clothes or deep in his head from emotional damage. Mark grabbed Fernando’s wrist, holding on so tightly and internally promising he’d never left go. He stood in front of the Spaniard to stop him from walking any further. “Omph.”

“Fernando.” Mark breathed, tears springing to his eyes. He looked up so Fernando could see his face, eyes locking on the coffee brown ones he loved so much. Fernando’s eyes widened in recognition. Mark swore he saw a shot of fear flash through them.

“Mark?!” Fernando’s voice was almost a whisper, his free hand reaching for the Australian. Mark couldn’t stop the smile hitting his face. But the joy didn’t last for long.

Someone suddenly smacked into Mark’s shoulder, knocking him away from Fernando and making him lose his grip on the Spaniard. Before he could turn back, a barrage of people had found their way over to him, putting more and more distance between Fernando and him. But Mark wasn’t going to give up that easy. He knew Fernando still had to be close, he knew Fernando had seen him, he knew Fernando knew he had come to save him.

“MARK!” Fear shot down Mark’s spine at Fernando’s distressed call. He tried to push through the people with a doubled effort, desperate to get back to Fernando’s side. He caught glimpse of someone pushing Fernando’s neck down and moving him on, another clamping their hand over Fernando’s mouth. Getting his elbow between the two people separating him from Fernando Mark pushed forwards, his hand reaching out.

But they were organised, and quick. Before it had really dawned on Mark he was stood on the outside of the gaggle of people that were moving off towards the Ferrari motorhome. Mark set off after them, knowing they were hiding Fernando in the middle of the group. He just had to find a new way in, or even to burst into the Ferrari motorhome in pursuit. He was not letting Fernando go. Not again, not ever.

“FERNA-!” Mark was winded as his back smacked into a wall, the arm across his chest holding him in place. He felt dizzy and confused, momentarily dazed at the sudden movement where he had been pulled away from his pursuit. He was just catching his breath when the arm across him changed to two hands gripping tightly into his collar, and Sebastian’s face came too close to his own.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?!” Sebastian gritted, his voice low.

“A shit sight more than you are.” Mark shot back, knocking Sebastian’s arms off him. He tried to move back in the direction of Fernando but Sebastian just forced him back into the wall of the motorhome he’d been pressed against. “Get out of my fucking way.”

“This is why you were told to stay away. You’re going to mess up this whole mission!”

“What fucking mission?! Sit around and just watch shit? He’s _right there_! Why aren’t _you_ trying to intercept him and get him back?!”

“You can’t just take him in plain sight, Mark. It’ll look like _you_ are the one trying to kidnap him. They’ve done it all too well.”

“Well how about the mission changes now? He’s fucking seen me. He knows I’m here to get him back.”

“You’ve risked everything! Now they’re going to think there is a rescue mission here for him!”

“That’s cause there fucking is!” Mark barked, pushing Sebastian away from him. He peered around the motorhome but it was too late; the kidnappers had disappeared back into the motorhome with Fernando. For now, he was untouchable. “Thanks a lot.”

“Horner wants you to stand down and go back home… There is a car waiting.” Sebastian said with authority. Mark walked away from him. “Mark-”

“-It’ll be waiting for a long time.” Mark called back over his shoulder. Sebastian jogged behind him until he caught up with him.

“Mark, they have the whole team under lockdown. There is about twenty of them who we believe are the kidnappers and they don’t let him go anywhere without at least five of them in his vicinity. You can’t just take him. They’ve got it all tied off. The twenty are disguised as team personal or fans. The guy that got to Fernando just before you did was one of them. They’re everywhere and well hidden. We think they’ve bribed or paid off the team to give them such exclusive access.”

“Thank you for letting me know what I’m up against.” Mark said, walking straight down the paddock and straight passed Ferrari. “But as you just saw there are chances. And you can tell Horner that the next one I get I’m exploiting.” Without so much as a glance in Sebastian’s direction, Mark left him behind him, continuing his stroll down the paddock.

He’d been so damn close. He’d had him. Mark had had him in his grasp. All he had to say was ‘run’ and they could have both been out of there. They could have both been free of the kidnappers and just have to go into hiding for a few days. It would have been so simple. It was so simple; and it wasn’t a plan Mark was giving up on lightly.

Mark felt the Motorola buzz in his pocket and appeared to absent-mindedly pull it out and check it. On the inside he was panicking a little; after no word from the captors since he had spoken to them two days ago a message straight after he had spoke to Fernando was not a good sign.

_I thought you said there was no rescue party._

Well, now they knew he was here.

\- - - -

Mark was so angry at himself. He should have only acted if he was certain he could accomplish his plan. Now Fernando was unreachable at any time, and he looked a hell of a lot more jittery than he had before Mark had spoken to him. It had been counter-productive in so many ways, not only with his chances of getting close to Fernando but also in Fernando’s mental state. Now the end of the weekend was here and he couldn’t get anywhere close to Fernando. No more lags in him being unattended gave Mark no opportunity to grab his hand and tell him to run. The only thing that was left was for Fernando to disappear with the captive again and a cold trail to his location.

Mark couldn’t take losing him again. It certainly wasn’t in his plans.

He knew trying to take Fernando wouldn’t work. He’d tried getting close to him moving down the paddock only to have Fernando taken off somewhere he couldn’t go or too many people bustling into him for him to be able to keep following the Spaniard. He was taking a new approach, one that meant he would simply follow Fernando and find out where he was going so he knew where he could find him. Perhaps listening to MI6 on this occasion was the best idea.

He was waiting around the Ferrari motorhome, his sight point on the front door so he would know exactly when Fernando had left.

As soon as the door opened it was clear Fernando wasn’t alone. He walked out with someone in Ferrari attire that looked more like a bodyguard than a member of the team. When his arm clenched tightly around Fernando’s bicep Mark knew that was the case. He waited for twenty seconds, waiting to see how many other people joined the protection party. One man dropped in in front of Fernando whilst two more picked up the rear. With a nod, Mark set off, following behind at the perfect distance to not be detected.

Now was not the time for sudden movements or sprint dashes. Mark just had to stick within range of Fernando and follow him to wherever he was being taken. Four more guys joined the procession down the paddock, two on either side of Fernando and the guy who was still holding onto Fernando tightly. One of the guys on the left moved in and muttered something to the guy who had Fernando. It caused Mark to frown for a split second.

In the time it took Mark to blink, Fernando had been hauled down the side of some motorhome. Throwing all caution to the wind, Mark jogged after them, managing to pick the right side entrance thanks to the pair flanking behind Fernando. It was a short distance to the back of the motorhomes. Mark caught himself before he became visible, peering around the motorhome in time to see the guy who had Fernando’s arm pressing duct tape over his mouth and manoeuvring him into a blacked out car. Mark waited patiently, fighting internally with the emotionally attached part of himself that wanted to sprint over to the car and fight them to get Fernando back. It was that irrational part that had lost him his chance of getting to Fernando in the first place. Now he needed his work mind on.

Mark memories the make of car and the number plate, then headed back down the paddock. He walked with a quick pace, knowing the car with Fernando was going to exit the wrong end of the circuit. That should give him enough time to make it to his bike and get onto the road before the car made any progress on its journey. Running the last part of his journey, Mark pulled his helmet onto his head, jumping onto the bike and starting it up in the same fluid motion. Using the power of the bike and one foot planted on the floor, he pivoted the machine to be facing the opposite direction to which it had been parked. Snapping down his visor, Mark set off in pursuit of the blacked out car, all the time reciting the number plate in his head.

It seemed to glow off the car as Mark parked three cars behind it at the lights. His hands tightened on the handlebars as he allowed the irrational part of his brain to react to being this close to Fernando. Again, it was not the time to kick off and drive into the side of the SUV. He would have his chance to make the captors pay, but right now he needed to know where they were going.

It had been working well, subtly following Fernando’s car through the city and keeping tabs on his progress. It was when the SUV took a sudden right-hand turn that Mark got the impression he may have been detected. Taking the same turn, Mark’s suspicions were proven right as the blacked-out car ahead doubled its speed, shooting away from him. Throwing caution to the wind, Mark picked up his own speed so as to not lose the car ahead. If all he could get out of this weekend was a location then he refused to lose that as well.

The SUV was gaining speed rapidly and nearly caused a pile up as it blasted onto the motorway. Mark was still just behind it, managing to keep up with the erratic lane changes and differing choices of direction. Zooming off the motorway, the SUV jumped a red light as it headed towards a tight country lane. Horn sounds followed Mark as he narrowly missed the on-coming traffic, still hot on the heels of the SUV transporting Fernando. Mark’s plan was getting more and more erratic the faster the car seemed to go. What was the point on following them to a location? Now he had been detected, it was highly likely that the kidnappers would take Fernando somewhere else as soon as they were sure Mark had left. So why wait? Why not just get Fernando back now?

The ringing in his pocket brought him back to the present with a smack. It was the Motorola. It was the car ahead trying to contact him. It dawned on Mark that, although the kidnappers knew they were being followed, they didn’t know for certain it was him on the bike. Mark decreased his speed to a speed he could think logically at and managed to get the ringing phone out of his pocket. Flipping it open, Mark wedged it into his helmet before placing both hands back on the handlebars and catching back up to the SUV.

“Hello?” Mark said, trying not to sound like he was racing down a country road after the car that had disappeared ahead of him. He just needed to see the headlights.

“What are you doing.” The bored tone of the kidnapper said. Mark feigned innocence.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re only going to get someone hurt, Mark. Stop this childish behaviour.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a sign down the phone.

“Ok. Stop the bike or we’ll _make_ you stop the bike.” Mark’s speed dipped a little at the sound of a gun being loaded up.

“B-Bike?” Mark said, his voice a lot smaller than it was. There was a small laugh down the phone.

“You’re on the speaker in the car, Mark!” The captor said excitedly. “Say hi to Fernando!”

“I don’t-”

“-Fernando, say hi.” There was a thud sound and then a whimper.”

“Leave him alone.” Mark picked up the speed he had lost. He would not let them hurt Fernando anymore than they already had.

“No. You do not get to set the rules. We had a deal and so far you are not keeping up your end.”

“What are you talk-?”

“-When are you killing Brawn, Webber? When does that happen? I’m getting tired of waiting.”

“Leave Fernando out of this, he’s done nothing-!”

“-No. This is not your game. You’re not playing my rules so maybe this toy has lost it’s value.” Mark head the safety click off a gun. Another whimper, this time of fear.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Mark begged, his emotions tearing out of his throat. He could not be this close and lose him. He could not lose him. It would not happen.

“Stop this pursuit. Go back home and kill Brawn. That is the deal for his life.”

“I’m not leaving him here! Not now!”

“Bored.” The kidnapper sighed, cutting off the conversation.

“NO!” Mark screamed, ramping up the speed of his bike it its max. The air whipped passed his head in a blur of noise. His head was racing, waiting to hear a gunshot he couldn’t seem to stop. He couldn’t be far behind them now. He was driving at a ridiculous speed. There was no way the car could reach this velocity. He had to be closing in. He had to be close to Fernando. Then he could save him. Once he was there, he could protect him. In his tussling emotions he nearly didn’t see the person sat in the middle of the road.

Not just a person. That was Fernando.

Mark hit the brakes hard but it was never going to be enough. He saw Fernando brace for impact in time to him sharply throwing the bike off it’s collision path. The machine slipped from underneath him, throwing him off in the opposite direction. The tarmac was hot as he skidded across it, rolling too many times to count until he came to a stop.

He was dizzy, everything was moving at different speeds. He tried to push to his feet but just came crashing back onto the ground. His right side was hot and wet, probably with blood after he had travelled most of the road on his side. Mark forced his eyes open, pushed passed the nauseous feeling as he yanked his helmet off. It dropped pointlessly to the side as Mark tried to stagger towards the car he could see parked in the middle of the road.

“Ferna…” Mark tried to call for Fernando but it was too much. His body was screaming at him in pain and the wind had been taken out of him. In his blurred and tumbling vision, Mark saw two men lift the guy who had been sat in the middle of the road to his feet and force him back into the car. There was a small kafuffle but eventually Fernando was forced back into the car. As the engine started up, Mark pushed to his feet.

But he wasn’t anywhere near coordinated enough to make any progress towards Fernando. He fell to his knees, finally succumbing to the pain that was overcoming his body. He felt hot and sore and exhausted. Collapsing onto his right, Mark yelled out as the pain crippled over his body. His vision was fading to black, but even then everything was still spinning.

Was this how it was going to end? It certainly felt like the end. Mark heard a buzz emit from somewhere near him, but he didn’t have the energy to investigate. He closed his eyes, taking short, shallow breaths and just let the pain overcome him.

The last thing he remembered was a bright light. If that was coming to take him away he would happily go with it.

\- - - - - - -

“It was stupid and reckless and you made everything we’d managed pointless.” Horner shot, his head dropped in his hand. Mark was sat in a hospital bed. This was the first day he’d felt like he was human again. It seemed Horner had been waiting for this day to tear him a new one. “We told you to stay away. You compromised the whole mission and we weren’t able to follow the car to work out where they are holding him.”

“S…Or…Ry…” Mark croaked, his voice weak from under use. Jenson and Kevin were stood on either side of his hospital bed; apparently the mission meeting had come to him.

“You’re lucky you’re on bed rest or we’d be detaining you for six weeks.” Six weeks?! He’d been written off for six weeks? He couldn’t be. He had to get back out there and save Fernando. God knows what they’d do in six weeks. Jenson gripped Mark’s shoulder as he tried to sit up, subtly shaking his head. “This sets the mission back. A lot. But right now we have a bigger problem.” Mark frowned. What could be a bigger problem than an on going missing person case? Surely that was their top priority.

Horner had turned away from him, moving over to his briefcase. Mark turned his frown onto Jenson, hoping the Brit would be able to shed some light on Horner’s last statement. He tried using his voice again but it wasn’t working, so he hoped Jenson got his question with his eyes. Jenson let out a deep sigh, taking the seat that was at Mark’s bedside.

“Seb’s gone missing.” Jenson said heavily. Mark’s eyes widened in shock. “He was undercover in Ferrari. He’d worked out that they also had people undercover there. Somehow they worked out he wasn’t just another team member but was a spy. We barely got any warning. He just went into the motorhome and suddenly all communication was lost.”

“We would have tried to recover him but someone chose a high speed bike chase at the same time.” Horner said darkly. Mark shook his head. This was his fault. They must have seen Sebastian talking to him after he had talked to Fernando and worked out that Sebastian was MI6. As for the timing, well, clearly Mark hadn’t been following as subtly as he thought. The captors knew Mark was following them and used him as a distraction so they could take Sebastian and not be followed by MI6. Mark had well and truly fucked up.

Sebastian was gone. Fernando was gone. And now he was useless and stuck in a hospital bed.

“Luckily for you, Mark, we assume that they have Sebastian and Fernando together. Problem is, they will interrogate Sebastian for answers. Where we could be fairly certain with your cooperation Fernando was safe, the same cannot be said for Sebastian. So this is now a code five rescue mission.” Horner dropped something on the table that was connected to Mark’s bed. “We need to know where they are.”

“W..Hat…. Thi…?” Mark asked, picking up the business card that Horner had just given him.

“It was found in Fernando’s garage after the race.” Kevin said, stepping closer to the meeting. “We think that Fernando left it for you, because he knew that you were there trying to get to him.”

“We are hoping that it’s a clue to their whereabouts.” Horner said, folding his arms. “Does it mean anything to you?” Mark looked at the business card that he was holding in his hand but he couldn’t focus on it. His head was spinning with all the information he’d just found out. Not only had he lost a lead on Fernando but he’d lost Sebastian too. How had he managed to get it so wrong?

“How about you give him ten minutes?” Jenson said kindly, his eyes locked on Mark’s expression.

“We need to know-” Horner started.

“-I know, but that’s a lot of information to get in a short space of time. He’s only just really come round. Give him ten minutes of peace to process it all. Then we can talk about it.” Horner looked between Jenson and Mark suspiciously, but when he couldn’t find any reason to argue it he dropped his arms.

“Fine. Ten minutes. We’ll be outside.” A simple flick of his hand had Kevin following after Horner. Once the door was closed Mark put the business card down, dropping his head in his one good hand, the other was strapped across his chest. He was slowly starting to resent himself more and more. Not so much for losing Fernando again but for putting Sebastian in danger.

“It’s a good thing it was me who picked you up or you’d have even more questions to answer.” Jenson said, walking around Mark’s bed until he was standing with his back to the door. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the Motorola, placing it next to the business card. “You’ve got a message.” Mark grabbed the phone so fast he nearly knocked it onto the floor. Finding the messages on his phone he opened up the most recent.

_Kill Brawn or he dies. You chose._

“We’re going to get them both back, OK.” Jenson said soothingly, hooking Mark under his shoulder. He closed the phone down, taking it from Mark’s limp grasp and pushing it back in his pocket. “For both of our sakes.”

“Wh…o….h…he…?”

“I don’t know.” Jenson said soberly. “But neither of them are going to get hurt. We’re going to get them both back. Don’t worry about Seb, he’s a tough bloke.” Mark squeezed Jenson’s leg, trying to tell him how sorry he was for putting him through all this as well. He wouldn’t have wished this situation on his worst enemy and now his actions had forced his best friend into the same torment. But Jenson was right; they were going to get them both back unscathed.

Mark’s eyes locked on the business card that Fernando had apparently left for him. He had to work out the clue, for both Jenson and his sakes.


	7. The First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a clue to work out, but does the past hold the answer?

Mark startled himself awake, hot pain shooting all over his body. He forced his eyes open, pushing the mental images that had been plaguing his sleep out of his head. This was ridiculous. Not only was he know in pain but sleep seemed more elusive than ever. He just wanted this nightmare to end; to wake up and have Fernando tucked in his arms and this all just be a horrible dream. But unlike those dreams that didn’t allow him to have more than half an hour’s sleep at a time, he couldn’t wake up from this.

Letting out a deep breath, Mark sat himself up, running a hand over his face. He couldn’t help wincing as his sore body twinged, having gone stiff from being still for so long. After a few minutes of wriggling around and trying to get comfortable, Mark gave up. It was no use. There simply wasn’t a comfortable position for him to lie in in his current state.

Turning to his left, Mark looked across at Jenson. He was slumped in the chair at his bedside, dosing softly. Mark was glad he hadn’t woken him; as much as Jenson was making out he was OK and that everything was fine and that Sebastian was tough enough to look out for himself, Mark could see the pain sitting just below the surface. Whether it was because he knew Jenson so well or because he too was going through what Jenson was going though, Mark wasn’t sure but he knew Jenson wasn’t OK. And he had every right to not be OK.

With Sebastian being a known MI6 agent he was definitely in a lot more danger than Fernando was.

Mark let out another deep breath as he tried to relax back into his pillows. It simply wasn’t working. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Fernando sat in the middle of that road, that split second where Mark seriously felt like it was too late to stop the bike careering straight into Fernando. Or his imagination would throw every horrid torture scene it could at him, all featuring Fernando. He was powerless to stop any of it.

He didn’t want to think about all that. He had to keep believing that Fernando was fine and that the kidnappers wouldn’t do anything to him. Not yet anyway.

Forcing any thoughts from his head, Mark picked up the business card that Fernando had left for him at the track off his bedside table. He looked at the shiny gold writing on the white piece of card. Of course he knew this place; he’d never forget the relevance of this particular hotel. Mark and Fernando had taken many trips to it in their time together. But why this place? Why had Fernando thought to remind him of this place? It couldn’t be where he was being held now; the hotel was too high profile. Mark didn’t care how much money the captors were paying; they could not sneak Fernando and Sebastian in and out of that hotel without someone spotting them. So why did Fernando leave this as a clue to his whereabouts? What did it mean?

Mark dropped his hand on his lap, closing his eyes in thought. It was a special place to the pair of them, yes; it was the place they had first met.

\- - - - - - - -

_Seven years earlier…_

“This is stupid; we’re not getting anywhere.” Mark muttered, turning his back on the party as he masked his words by pretending to sip on his champagne. He would have looked crazy if he had been openly talking to himself. And it would be the quickest way to get himself discovered.

“A little bit of positive attitude never hurt anyone.” Mark glanced across to the other side of the mezzanine that surrounded the room, his eyes falling on the tuxedoed blonde opposite him who was smirking.

“We’ve been here an hour.”

“And you’ve barely touched your drink. I thought you Aussie’s knew how to party.” The Brit was pretending to be insulted. Mark just rolled his eyes.

“Gentlemen, stay focused.” Horner sounded in his ear. Mark made it look like he was scratching his ear as he pressed the earpiece more firmly in place. “We need to find our guy.”

“We’re not finding anything up here.” Mark said, trading his empty champagne flute for a full one. “I’m heading downstairs.”

“Magnussen, go on his flank-”

“-I don’t need a bodyguard.” Mark hissed. “Drop your hand, Kevin, or someone is going to know you’ve got a bug in your ear.” The new kid dropped his hand instantly, disappearing back into the crowd.

“Leave the kid alone, Mark, or he won’t want to play anymore.” Jenson chastened as Mark started down the stairs.

“Gentlemen, please. This is not a school trip.” Horner exasperated. Mark took a long swig from his champagne flute as he entered the bustling crowd.

“Give me the description again.” Mark requested, adjusting his bowtie as he moved between two drunkenly dancing girls.

“Short, brunette, male, late forties, Italian-”

“-Sounds like Sebi’s ideal date.” Jenson teased. Mark couldn’t help but smirk.

“Jense, you know I prefer them blonde.” Mark’s eyes followed Sebastian for a split moment as he danced passed him with a brunette woman in a dark blue dress.

“She doesn’t look very blonde to me.” Mark grinned.

“Oh no, she’s totally not Seb’s type.” Jenson said. “The girl in the olive coloured short dress. That’s the one Sebi wants to be dancing with.”

“Because you would know.” Sebastian sent back.

“Gentlemen, _please_! This is a mission!”

“Alright, come on lads, before that veins starts popping on Horner’s temple.” Mark chuckled, stopping at the bar. His eyes scanned the room for anyone matching the description he’d been given. “We sure he’s here?”

“His car is parked out front.” Kevin informed. Mark took another sip of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean his in the party though. I don’t think he’s the only one who would have RSVP-ed yes just to get a hotel room.” Jenson muttered.

“You don’t think… _He’s_ here?” Sebastian asked, his voice quiet. Mark swallowed dryly; if Ecclestone was here this mission got a bit more important.

“One way to find out.” Mark said, placing his half-empty glass on the bar.

“This is important now, agents. We need to find out what rooms have been checked into and get a scout mission going.” Horner instructed. The air crackled with a new kind of tension; they could be able to crack the biggest case of their careers.

“Leave the room numbers to me.” Mark said with certainty, his eyes already locked on the entrance to the lobby. In his peripheral, he saw Sebastian break off his dance with his ‘date’, leading her to the corner of the room. She gave a subtle nod, heading out the door Sebastian had left her by without anyone noticing.

“Webber, twenty minutes and we need those numbers; Button, Vettel, get upstairs and start a basic sweep; Magnussen, find Wolff. I want the pair of you into the security system in no more than ten minutes.” As soon as Horner had finished giving his instructions the four agents began to move. Mark nodded to himself, waiting to see Jenson disappear from the mezzanine before he headed for the lobby.

“Omph!”

“Shit, I am so sorry!” Mark clattered back into the bar; whatever had been in the glass the other guy was carrying now soaking into his shirt. Mark shook his head, trying to push away the hands that were trying to dry off the spilt drink.

“It’s alright.” Mark gritted, still trying to move forwards. But whoever had spilt their drink was trying desperately to rectify their mistake.

“Is too crowded.” The guy huffed, grabbing some napkins from the bar and patting at Mark’s shirt that was partially turning see-through.

“It’s fine, easy mistake.”

“No, are soaked! Joder… You come with me, will get you a clean shirt.”

“Really, it’s O…” Mark’s mind blanked as his eyes connected with the deep coffee ones of the man who had spilt his drink on him. It felt like the world stopped moving, like nothing else mattered in the world apart from the man who tightly had hold of his wrist and was trying to drag him away. Mark could barely function. How could one set of eyes make him forget who he was entirely? “O… Okay…” Mark didn’t even know what he was saying now. He felt the blush of embarrassment hit his cheeks.

“Why do you blush? Should be me who is embarrassed for falling on you.” The guy smiled cutely. Mark couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“You can fall on me anytime…” It suddenly dawned on Mark what he had said. Feeling too hot all at once, Mark drew his hand back from the other man. What was he supposed to be doing? He was on a time limit but for the life of him he couldn’t think what for. “Sorry…”

“Fernando.” The guy smiled, holding his hand out as an introduction. Once again, Mark found himself magnetising towards Fernando, mirroring his every move. His hand felt nice in his.

“Mark.” Bollocks. Now he’d gone and given his real name. Like he could remember what his decoy name was right now. Like he could remember anything at this present moment in time.

“Mark; is nice to meet you.” Fernando smiled. Mark melted at the way his name folded off Fernando’s tongue. He wanted to hear him say it again and again and again. “Am so sorry about your shirt. Please let me go and get you a new one.”

“It’s no trouble.” Mark blustered, holding Fernando’s hand tighter as he moved to disappear in the crowd. Fernando’s eyes fell back on his and Mark’s stomach looped over. “No trouble at all…”

“Oi, Lover boy. Room numbers.” Jenson’s voice in his ear snapped him back to the situation at hand. Right, room numbers. Super important mission. Mark dropped Fernando’s hand.

“Actually, I was just leaving.” Mark said suddenly causing Fernando to frown. “I… Yeah.”

“Wait!” Mark tried to keep his head down and disappear in the crowd but it appeared Fernando was as keen to stay close to him as Mark was keen to have him close. Mark couldn’t shake him off. He was forced to stop when Fernando’s hand grabbed his again. “Please do not run off, I feel bad enough for soaking you as it is.”

“Code Six. Out of action.” Mark muttered frantically. If Fernando wasn’t going anywhere there was no way Mark could.

“For fuck sake, Mark.” Sebastian muttered.

“Magnussen, how’s the security?” Horner said sharply.

“I’m nearly in. Susie can go.”

“Alright, Wolff. Downstairs now. You’ve got ten minutes before we need those numbers.” Mark felt bad for letting his team down but it was for the best; he wasn’t about to drag Fernando along on this mission and for all intents and purposes he was compromised. Code six: he was out of action.

“Good luck.” Mark muttered as Fernando pulled him to the edge of the room.

“You better get some tonight, Mark, or it totally wasn’t worth it.” Mark ripped the earpiece from his ear at the sound of Jenson’s words, stuffing the small thing in his pocket. He didn’t need those sorts of comments at this present moment in time.

“You come, we get you a dry shirt.” Fernando nodded, changing path and leading Mark out of the function room. Now off the mission Mark couldn’t think of a reason to say no. As Fernando walked him through the lobby, Mark saw Susie stood by the reception desk, talking to the receptionist. For a moment, he thought he was going to leave Fernando and head over there to aid Susie. He should be there doing that not skiving off a mission with some random bloke he just met. But the moment passed and so did he, suddenly finding himself in an enclosed space with Fernando as the lift doors shut.

“You can take this shirt off. I get you a clean on in the room.” Fernando smiled, watching Mark with innocent eyes. Mark moved to take his blazer off, feeling something hard press against his ribs. Of course he’d forgotten he had his gun hidden under his jacket. Mark dropped his arms.

“It’s alright. I can wait until we get to the room.” Mark said, hitting the number of his floor as the lift started to ascend. Fernando frowned at him.

“Was going to lend you one of my shirts.”

“I’m not sure I’d fit.” Mark smirked, looking Fernando up and down. This made the Spaniard blush cutely.

“So then we are going to your room?”

“You appear to be a man who knows what he wants.”

“Always get what I want.” Fernando smiled seductively. Mark felt like he was being pinned to the wall by Fernando’s eyes.

“You do, do you?” Mark met his challenge. It was quite likely that after this evening he wouldn’t see Fernando again so he was throwing all caution to the wind. The moment was broken by the lift coming to a halt, dinging to signify they had reached Mark’s floor. Fernando followed closely behind Mark as he walked down the corridor. “Do you mind giving me ten seconds to tidy up? Mark asked, his hand poised over unlocking the door. Fernando raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want to tidy up…?”

“Wasn’t expecting company… Got pants and socks everywhere.” Fernando’s laugh sent another pulse of pleasure through Mark. He never wanted it to stop. He wanted to hear that laugh again and again.

“Ok, I give you ten second to tidy your pants and socks.” Fernando chuckled. Mark beamed back at him, unlocking the door and handing the key to Fernando.

“Ten seconds.”

“I will count.” Fernando teased as Mark slipped into his room. Instantly he dove for the bed, grabbing handfuls of the mission document he had left lying over it and shoving it in his bag. Once the bed was clear he ripped his blazer off, dropping his gun holster and gun into the case before trying to get the black jacket back over his shoulders. He closed the lid over the scruffy contents of the case, kicking it under the bed. He was checking for anything else that looked out of place when the door opened. He was out of time.

Mark just prayed he’d managed to hide everything.

“Your room is much nicer than mine.” Fernando praised as he walked in. He set the key lightly on the desk. “And I see no pants or socks anywhere. Very impressed.”

“Glad you are.” Mark smiled, loving the little smirk that was playing over Fernando’s lips.

“So…” Fernando asked, wandering around the room slowly. He opened up the wardrobe, a little confused to see it empty. “Where is the clean shirt?” Mark knew exactly where there was a clean shirt, but there was no way he was pulling that case back out from under his bed. He acted on his feet.

“Never mind about that.” Mark shrugged, pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the bed. He tucked his bowtie apart, letting it slipped from around his neck. Fernando watched him as he popped each button open, carefully peeling the white material off his shoulders.

“I think you are a man who knows what he wants.” Fernando said as Mark laid his shirt next to his blazer and bowtie. Mark smiled, standing confidently without a shirt on.

“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.” Mark held his hands up innocently, moving to the wardrobe to get a hanger. Fernando passed him one. “You’re the one who ruined my shirt.”

“And you are the one who invited me up here when you do not have a spare one to put on.” Fernando pointed out. “Perhaps you do this on purpose.”

“Maybe you threw your drink on me on purpose.” Mark winked, hanging his blazer over his shirt on the hanger. He handed it back to Fernando who stored it away, closing the wardrobe with a snap.

“Should clean you up.” Fernando said, his voice a touch breathy, as he approached Mark. His eyes were unashamedly taking in every inch of bare skin Mark had on offer. “Yeah…” His hand pressed gently against Mark’s shoulder as he looked up into the Australian’s hazel eyes. “… Sticky.”

“Maybe you should clean me up then…” Mark was unravelling at the seams. It was like every silken word Fernando said was secretly pure filth. Fernando had to know exactly what he was doing. That little smirk that Mark couldn’t get rid of let him know that he definitely knew exactly what he was doing.

“Take a seat.” Fernando said quietly, his hand slowly falling from Mark as he disappeared into the bathroom. Mark let himself fall back onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in a desperate plea to clam himself down. It had been a while since Mark had been this aroused and he really wasn’t sure what would happen if he didn’t calm down a bit.

It could be a very short night if he didn’t calm down a bit.

“You going to sit up or do you want me to lay down with you?” Mark sat up quickly, pressing his hands behind his back to stabilise himself. Fernando, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, let out a small sigh. “Shame…”

“We’ve got plenty of time to lay down.” Mark said, feeling a little more confident now he’d had a chance to breath clear air for a moment. But it really wasn’t going to be a long night if Fernando kept walking towards him with that little sway in his hips.

“Tell me if is too cold or too… Hot…” Fernando purred, resting on the bed beside Mark. Mark needed anyway to defuse this situation, just for a little while. He had to bite his lip as Fernando pressed the warm flannel to his chest, squeezing it so little droplets ran down his taunt stomach.

“So what does Fernando do when he’s not… Doing this?” Mark asked, his hands tight in the bed sheets. Fernando’s hand released on the flannel slightly, taken back by the question Mark was asking.

“Are asking me what I do?” Fernando queried. Mark turned his head to look at him.

“Yeah… Thought it would be nice to know you a little bit better than ‘Fernando’” Mark shrugged. Still with a frown on his face, and a lot less sexuality, Fernando began wiping small circles across Mark’s chest.

“I… Race cars.”

“Race cars? That sounds like fun.” Mark smiled, finding he loved the little confused pout on Fernando’s face just as much as that sexual little smirk.

“Is OK.” Fernando muttered, his eyes fixed on watching what his hands were doing.

“Not what you want to be doing? Seems a little niche for something you accidently find yourself doing.”

“No, no I love the racing. Papa used to do it with me when I was younger and has been something I always love…”

“But…?” Mark encouraged. Fernando played the flannel in his hands.

“Is weird, talking about this with a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger.” Mark nudged. “Come on, you did throw your drink over me.”

“You are very easy to talk to.” Fernando admitted, still looking at his hands.

“Well, that’s a lovely compliment.” Mark smiled. “I like listening to your voice.” Mark winced at his own words. That sounded a lot worse than he had meant it. “No, I mean-”

“-I know what you mean.” Fernando grinned, pressing the flannel back to Mark’s chest. “Where I live, back home, is an old hotel. Is not spooky or anything is just… A little run down. When I was a little boy I used to love it. My sister and me would play there all the time. And there was an old man who was there, I think he used to run it as a hotel. He would tell us all these stories about the people who stayed there and about the funny things and the wonderful things that would happen. I used to love it, it could make me light up…”

“It clearly still does.” This expression that Fernando was wearing now; this was Mark’s favourite. Fernando was so love-struck with this little hotel, with the idea of owning it or running it. Mark wasn’t sure which but he wanted to find out, wanted to make it possible for Fernando.

“Anyway,” Fernando said, moving so he was straddling Mark’s waist. He hooked his hands behind Mark’s neck to stabilise himself as Mark wrapped his hands around his waist. “How about Mark?”

“What about Mark?”

“What does Mark do when he is not bringing strange men to his room?” Mark couldn’t help but laugh lightly at Fernando, holding him a little tighter.

“I’m a writer.” Mark lied easily. He hated the way Fernando’s eyes lit up after being told his fake occupation. He didn’t like lying to Fernando, even if this was only going to be a one-time thing. Fernando had been so honest and truthful but Mark couldn’t return the courtesy. “It’s not that exciting.”

“Is! Is amazing. Have never met a writer before.”

“Gives me an excuse to travel the world.” Mark shrugged. Fernando frowned at him. “I’m a travel writer.”

“Oh…”

“See, told you it wasn’t that exciting.”

“No, it is – is amazing. Maybe you go where I go racing?” There was hope in Fernando’s eyes. Hope Mark didn’t quite understand.

“Might do – where do you race?”

“All over the place.” Fernando blushed, his fingers playing with the wisps of hair at the base of Mark’s neck. It felt nice… Relaxing… “I hope you do not mind…” Fernando started, causing Mark to open his eyes. He hadn’t realised he’d closed them. “Is just…”

“No, don’t worry, like I said, there was no expectation.” Mark smiled lightly. He went to move Fernando off his lap but the Spaniard gripped to him tighter.

“No…” Fernando shook his head, looking a little annoyed at himself. “You make me feel…” Mark frowned at Fernando as his cheeks heated up. “I never feel like this before.”

“No…” It was almost relieving to hear that it wasn’t a one-way feeling. “Me neither.” Fernando’s head shot up, a small shocked smile on his lips.

“I, erm… I think I would like to see you again.”

“And this means I can’t get you into bed now? Damn me and my charm.” Mark feigned being annoyed, smirking at Fernando to make sure he knew he was joking.

“Trust me, did not mean for this to happen either. Wasted a good drink on you.” Fernando teased.

“And I wasted a good little strip tease.” Mark poked. “Here’s a deal, you tell me what you were drinking and I’ll try and I’ll order a couple up and then you tell me more about that little hotel?” Mark smiled softly, brushing Fernando’s hair out of his face.

“I see, you want to get me drunk.”

“If that means you’ll stay the night?” Mark asked hopefully. “I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Mark said quickly, to avoid any awkward conversations. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want you to go.”

“Do not want to go either.” Fernando beamed, looking deep into Mark’s eyes.

\- - - - - - - -

Mark would never forget that night. It was their first night; Fernando had told him all about his desire to retire and reopen the little hotel and they had both fallen asleep curled together watching some sappy film. Everything just felt right with Fernando, and when Mark accidently bumped into him again two weeks later on another mission he was certain it was fate.

Mark wasn’t a believer in love at first sight but with Fernando there was no other definition for it.

Fernando just made his world seem brighter. Made him feel like he’d been living at twenty percent until Fernando came along and showed him what he’d been missing. From the moment he had laid eyes on him he knew he loved him, he just didn’t know how to process those feelings for someone he had just met. Scared of what he might be feeling he was happy to take it slow with Fernando. Taking it slow allowed them to open each other up and to realise exactly what they meant to each other.

Mark tapped the business card on his leg. Maybe the room number was the clue? Squeezing his eyes tighter shut he tried to remember it, but they had stayed in that hotel so many times it could have been one in a million numbers. Did the ballroom have something to do with it? Maybe the drink Fernando had spilled? Or was it the song that had been playing? Like hell he could remember that.

Mark gasped suddenly, sitting up in spite of the pain. How could he have overlooked something so important? It was screaming in his face and he had looked the other way. How could he have been stupid enough to miss it? Of course that was what Fernando was trying to tell him. Of course that’s what the clue was.

“Mark?” Jenson slurred sleepily as he sat up too, having being woken up by Mark’s sudden gasp. His half asleep mind took in Mark sitting up and the crumpled business card in his hand. “Mar, what-?”

“-I know, Jenson.” Mark said, a small smile pulling on his lips. “I know where they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Susie isn't brunette but the joke worked too well so... she's in disguise and she's wearing a wig :L


	8. The Plan Being Formed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are hard to keep but easy to act on

Jenson was pacing. It was really starting to get on Mark’s nerves. Maybe if he were in Jenson’s position he would be pacing too. But he wasn’t and right now he just wanted the Brit to sit down and stop making him feel dizzy by pacing back and forth. It had been five days since the Grand Prix. Five days since he had last seen Fernando and they had lost Sebastian. On cue, Jenson paced over to the table beside Mark’s bed and flipped open the Motorola, slamming it shut when there was no message on it.

“Jenson-”

“-Shut up.” Jenson cut in before Mark could take a breath. Mark sighed. “I never told you how to feel.”

“I can’t just sit here and watch you torture yourself, mate.” Mark said sitting forwards a little. A shot of pain ran down his side, making him fall back into the pillows. “You’re not helping anyone.”

“No, you’re not helping anyone.” Jenson slammed his hands down on the end of Mark’s bed, causing the Australian to flinch in shock. “You said you knew.”

“Jenson-”

“-You said you’d worked it out.” Mark dropped his eyes to the floor. He couldn’t bear to look at Jenson like this. “You got my hopes up for what?” Jenson yelled, slamming his hand back into the bed frame.

“I’m sorry-”

“-Doesn’t fucking cut it.” Jenson spat, resuming his pacing. Mark watched him until it made him feel too dizzy again. He dropped his head back into the pillow looking up at the ceiling. How could he tell Jenson he _had_ worked it out? He didn’t want Horner knowing. Horner wouldn’t actually go! He’d just set up a steak-out mission that would probably only end up with another agent going missing. No, it was time for Mark to start taking this into his own hands. If he had done as he had wanted to last weekend he could have Fernando back by now and Sebastian would still be safely with Jenson. Team attacks weren’t going to work. He _had_ to do this alone.

Horner didn’t even knock as he walked in with Kevin in tow.

“Agent Button,” Horner nodded. Jenson folded his arms, stopping his pacing and giving his attention to his boss. Horner turned his eyes on Mark. “Webber.” He nodded again, sliding the table that lay across Mark’s bed towards him. “I do hope you’re recovery is coming along.”

“Slowly but surely.” Mark muttered, folding his arms. He had to drop them the moment they touched his chest; too much pain coursing through his torso.

“Good.”

“Had a chance to look at that business card yet, Agent Webber?” Brawn asked from the screen that Horner had loaded up, his laptop now sat on Mark’s bed-table. Mark pressed a button on the remote of his bed to sit him up a little.

“No… Sorry.” Mark said sheepishly. His eyes flicked to Jenson in the corner as he heard a faint scoff.

“It’s been five days, Webber. I’d have thought you’d have been all over it.” Horner said from above the laptop screen.

“Haven’t you got anyone else working on it?”

“If the hotel on the card was where we thought they were then yes, but it is believe that Alonso left the clue for you, therefore we expect only you to be able to decipher it.”

“So you’re doing nothing?” Mark asked. Just as he had suspected. Horner rolled his eyes.

“We have a team based around the hotel, just in case that is where they are being held, but apart from that we have nothing to go off.” Kevin explained.

“That place really means nothing to you?” Horner asked, his tone serious. Mark just shrugged lightly. They had a steak-out team set around the first hotel and that’s all the ever intended to do at the race track. It was clear MI6 really didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

“Well-”

“-Jenson.” Mark cut in sharply as Jenson began to speak. The Brit froze, his mouth open as if he were about to carry on talking but his eyes were knowing. Mark didn’t look away.

“Well what?” Horner asked, looking between the two agents. Jenson just blinked.

“No… Nothing…” Jenson said, his voice too high to be normal. Mark sent him a dark look before turning back to Horner.

“Like I said, nothing important comes to mind initially. I’ll keep thinking.”

“So no update to report?” Horner exasperated. Mark just shrugged again.

“48 hours, Webber. Then I want an update. You better get thinking.” Brawn ordered before his image disappeared. Horner slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

“It’s not just your little friend on the line, Webber. We’ve lost one of our best agents.” Horner shot darkly.

“That was a bit careless of you. Should be more careful where you leave these things.” Mark sent back, his tone dry. Horner stormed from the room with Kevin right on his toes. Mark had about six seconds after the door had closed before Jenson’s hands were tight in his collar.

“Hey-!”

“-You fucking BASTARD!” Jenson yelled, his face close to Mark’s. Mark tried to push him off but his grip was too tight. “You told me you didn’t know!”

“Jenson, what are you-?”

“-I don’t care why you won’t tell Horner and the others but you be fucking straight with me! Where are they?” Jenson growled. Mark swallowed dryly.

“I don’t-”

“-YES YOU FUCKING DO!” Jenson screamed, shoving Mark back into the bed. He threw the business card at him for good measure. “Now you fucking tell me or I’m going to go and get Horner and tell him you just remembered something.” Jenson threatened, pointing at the door. Mark knew not to push it; he’d been in Jenson’s place. Was in Jenson’s place; he knew at that moment in time Jenson would do anything if it meant getting his partner back faster. Mark let out a deep breath.

“This stays between us.” Mark warned. Jenson scoffed at him.

“You’re a bastard.”

“I wasn’t going to just sit on this information!” Mark pressed. “I’m not fucking heartless.”

“Where are they then?” Jenson bit. Mark glanced at the door.

“You have to promise me that you won’t tell Horner or Brawn or anyone.” Mark said, sitting forward. Jenson folded his arms tightly. “I have a plan and you have to promise you’ll work to my plan.”

“Do I actually get told the details of this plan or are you just going to go behind my back?” Jenson snapped. Mark held his hands up innocently.

“I’ll tell you everything, so long as it stays between us and you follow my orders. I say come you come, I say fall behind you fall behind, I say get the fuck out of there and leave me, you do just that, deal?”

“Sounds like I won’t be fully clued in on this plan.” Jenson said with narrow eyes.

“Look, I was wrong, I can’t do this on my own and I need you on this. I need someone I can rely on to put their life on the line if needs be. I know I would for Fernando and I’m confident you would for Seb.”

“What kind of a question is that, of course I fucking would.” Jenson sent aggressively. Mark nodded his head, holding out his hand.

“You accept my terms?” Jenson eyed him suspiciously.

“You’ll tell me everything?”

“Of course.”

“Whenever I ask you to tell me everything?”

“You have my word.” Jenson looked deep into Mark’s eyes but it didn’t appear that Mark was hiding anything. Exasperating a little, Jenson clutched Mark’s hand, shaking it in a deal. “Alright, I need you to go to my house, go into the shed and open up the boot of the Porsche. You’ll find a black bag in there. I’m going to need that. If you open the green tool cupboard that’s beside the Porsche you should find a second bag that you can use. Get them both and bring them back here in three hours.”

“What’s happening in three hours?” Jenson asked, letting go of Mark’s hand. Mark sat up, fighting through the pain as he swung his legs off the bed and pushed to his feet. Leaning on Jenson’s shoulder for support, he looked across at his colleague.

“In three hours you’re helping break me out of here, and tonight we’re going to get Fernando and Seb back.”


End file.
